


Are You Up To Doing The Impossible?

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Weird But Beautiful [13]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banquets, Bickering, Blue dress, Blue scarf, Chain Mail, Coquettishness, Crew as Family, Daring Deeds, Developing Relationship, Disappearances, Disguise, Explicit Language, Falca The Falcon, Falconry, Fellatio (implied), First Kiss, Flirting, Gossip, Holidays, Human Chess Game, Humor, Innuendo, Jealousy, Jousting, Language, Little Egypt, M/M, Medieval Clothing, Merry Mix-Ups, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mix-Ups, Mysterious Stranger - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Rants, Renaissance Faires, Rescues, Roses, Ruffians - Freeform, Short Clothing, Squabbling, away mission, hanky-panky, in drag, ranting, yellow roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Jim Kirk is bored. He also needs favors from Sarek, so he wants to send McCoy to charm him. Frankly, it does not amuse Kirk to have Sarek panting after him at the moment, and it might stroke McCoy's ego to have to dodge the old lecher for awhile. Because everyone knows that Sarek has the hots for Jim Kirk and maybe for Leonard McCoy, too.Everyone, that is, except Spock.But on Vulcan, there seems to be more people around than what's on the usual Enterprise crew.  Could it be that other people are interested in Vulcan, too?  And why?
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, James T. Kirk/Sarek, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Sarek, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Pavel Chekov/Hikaru Sulu, Sarek & Spock
Series: Weird But Beautiful [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761436
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> As I was revising the title yet again, I discovered that its meaning could be taken two ways. Originally, it was Kirk asking McCoy if he could do an upcoming mission. Now it could also ask if a guy had gotten himself physically ready to make a relationship more (ahem!)...intimate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you think you believe you understand what you thought I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is exactly what I meant.” Richard Nixon. (Quoted here in its entity because it is so apropos of the situation.)

Leonard McCoy looked downright confused. That was nothing strange. McCoy was used to having things confuse him. But not things said to him by his captain, a person who was usually quite eloquent and precise in what he had to say. "Are you sure about that?"

But as he gave McCoy a tight-lipped grin indicating how certain he was of himself, Kirk remained firm in his appraisal of what he had said. "Yup, I certainly am."

McCoy frowned in thought. He was pretty certain that he was being led gently into a trap, but he couldn't figure out this current tactic. But that was his captain's specialty. Cleverness disguised as innocence. Making a person fight to do what Kirk had wanted done all along. The velvet fist. The lure of the spider web. The backward slanting shark's teeth that made retreat impossible. And Kirk's fondness of setting up human chess games with people, especially with his friends, just to see what would happen.

The odd thing was that the friends knew all about the human chess game that Kirk liked to play, yet they kept coming back for more. That's what you do when you love someone beyond reason, simply because you know he returns that love just as strongly and has your back in whatever happens to you.

But the human chess game gambit generally happened when Kirk was bored. He didn't use it all the time, because he realized that even devoted friends have their limits. But it sure came in handy occasionally when Kirk was bored beyond all toleration. Space exploration wasn't all adventure and excitement. There were long stretches of ennui (like now) when nothing much was happening. Then his friends welcomed, and even encouraged, some diversion, even if it was something convoluted from Kirk's quick, though quirky mind.

McCoy figured that Kirk might be a little restless at the moment, but hadn't reached the point where he was bored enough to start manipulating people. Because somewhere deep inside him even Kirk realized that deliberately messing up the lives of his friends for his own amusement carried with it the risk of losing the friendship of people he relied on and personally loved. Even he wasn't that callous or cavalier with feelings. Even he had his limits.

Or so McCoy supposed. Or hoped for.

“I'll say it again, Jim. I don’t think that attempting something like what you want to attempt is even possible, let alone this. Yeah, we all need a little 'r and r.' It's been weeks since we've had some time off. And I'm here to say that I've thought a lot about a little relaxation on some tropical isle with all sorts of island women seeing to my every whim and catering to me until I'm fat and sassy. And very spoiled." He let himself enjoy that pipedream a moment while he mulled over all of the possibilities that a scenario such as that could offer him. He even enjoyed a little rocking back and forth on his heels to indicate just how much that kind of activity would be welcomed to him.

Then he pulled himself back to reality and the waiting Kirk. "But this?" He frowned to emphasize his position. "What you're proposing? Nope. No way. Can't be done.”

Jim Kirk looked up at his friend with languid eyes filled with unmistakable amusement. “Outside of the logical reason that you do, too, think, why are you being so pessimistic about this mission, Bones?"

“Now you’re sounding like the Vulcan,” McCoy grumbled.

"Seems like you're giving up awfully easily. Where's that devil-may-care attitude and sense of adventure that sent you into the Corps in the first place?" Kirk prodded. "Where's that prudence-be-damned foolhardiness that inspires everyone into victory? Where's the guy who can run a sickbay with nothing but a dull knife and a box of band-aids and still thinks he's ahead of the game? Where's that guy? Hmm?"

McCoy's eyes blazed with indignant angst. “What do I have to be?! A cockeyed optimist all the time so everyone around here can feel good about themselves?! First Spock and now you! I didn't sign on to be any court jester! I ain't about to start acting like one now! Don't care how upsetting that is to everyone else's day,” he grumbled as his voice trailed off with his rant.

Somehow it wasn't as much fun to argue as when McCoy was having a bone to pick with Spock. But then, nobody else in the universe was quite like Spock, either.

Thank goodness for small favors, McCoy thought, then realized that Kirk was talking again. He needed to listen up and forget that aggravating Vulcan once and for all. As if that was even possible! Spock had an irritating way of making his presence known-- even if he didn't utter a word.

“You’ve been accused of being a lot of things, Bones, but ‘a cockeyed optimist’ has never been one of them. And as for your being our court jester....” Kirk let his statement trail away with a shrug of his shoulders and a noncommittal glance.

McCoy looked miffed. “Now you’ve gone and insulted me.”

“Far from it. It’d take something more than that to penetrate that thick elephant hide of yours.”

“There’s one thing I do know for damn sure.”

“And what’s that?” Kirk wanted to know.

“This isn’t getting either one of us anywhere, so I’m leaving.” McCoy straightened as he set aside the glass in his hand and prepared to push himself out of his chair. "Your whiskey's good, but I'm getting bored with the conversation."

“Hold it! You just thought you’d thrown up a sufficient smokescreen to make me forget why I wanted you to meet with me, didn’t you?!”

“Apparently not,” McCoy said, leaning against the back of the chair again. “You’re getting as suspicious as that Vulcan, too.”

“I know the tactics that you two use to avoid answering a question to each other, and it isn’t gonna work with me!”

“Wanna bet? You still don’t know why I think that your original proposition is impossible to do.”

“I could pull rank and order you to answer me.”

McCoy stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, but you ain’t gonna. You might be a little annoyed, but you aren’t royally pissed off. At least not yet. Nah, you’re still intrigued. You wanna know what I’m up to.” He gave Kirk a stern look. "And I wanna know what you're up to."

Kirk gave him a simpering grin. “You know me so well.” Then his face cleared. “But come on, Bones, why don't you think a diplomatic envoy to Vulcan would be unable to convince Sarek to having a Harvest Dance at his royal residence?”

“As you reminded me a short time ago, I do, too, think.”

“Now you’re getting pissy.”

“Thank you,” McCoy said smugly. "It comes from having to be cautious about your motives. I've been burned before."

“Here I thought you’d get annoyed about the other part of my proposition.”

“What’s that? What other part?” McCoy asked suspiciously. He hadn't realized that this was a two-parter.

“No, no, it wouldn’t work,” Kirk said, waving him away. “Just forget it.”

“Why wouldn’t it work?” McCoy wanted to know, proving that he was just as curious as any Vulcan on board the Enterprise.

“Just ‘cause, that’s why.”

“’Just ‘cause?!’ James T. Kirk can answer ‘just cause’ to it already?! Without even trying?! That’s not the James T. Kirk I know!”

“Well, it could be almost impossible to do,” Kirk answered, handing McCoy more nails to fit himself securely into a box he didn’t realize that he was even building around himself.

“Come on, Jim! Nothing is impossible! As my old country uncle used to say, ‘Never holler “Whoa!” in a horse race!’”

“Your old country uncle, eh?” Kirk asked with a wry grin.

“Folks say I take after him a lot in looks and actions.”

“I bet. But that still doesn’t convince me that the second part of my proposition will work. The guy just wouldn’t do it for me. There's no reason why he even should.” And just the way he said it indicated how frustrated, and how disappointed, he would be by the whole situation.

“And why not?! You’re the captain! Order him! But, hell, why is that even necessary?! Anybody should be willing to do anything for you!”

“Spock doesn’t believe that it would happen, either.”

“Spock, eh? If his thinking is against something, then that makes mine all the more for it! In fact, if Spock won’t do it, then I will be more than willing to do it!”

Kirk slapped McCoy’s upper arm and gave him a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Bones! That takes a big load off me! Thanks for volunteering!”

Volunteering?! Who volunteered for anything?! Rookies might volunteer for something, but seasoned guys like Leonard Horatio McCoy didn’t--

Kirk’s smile deepened as understanding washed over McCoy.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” McCoy thundered, feeling the noose tighten around his neck. And the confining box that he’d nailed so patiently around himself seemed to shrink smaller. “What did you just foist onto me?!”

“What you volunteered for, Doctor,” Kirk reminded him as he squeezed McCoy bicep. “And may I say that the Fleet is proud of you for your service--”

“Level with me, Kirk, and make it fast,” McCoy muttered in a low, threatening voice. “I’m the guy that knows pressure points on your body, remember? The Vulcan has his Nerve Pinch, true. But that’s just one nerve. I know points all over your body. Points that you might not like to have paralyzed... IF you know what I mean!”

“Well, it seems that you are my official envoy to the Vulcan court to ask Sarek to host a Harvest Dance at the Royal Residence.”

“I am the... WHAT?!”

“Of course, it would be nice if there was more than just a dance,” Kirk said, hurrying forward with his plans before McCoy caught his breath. “Maybe some outside events during the daytime such as falconry and jousting. And then a Medieval banquet in the evening.”

"You're not proposing just a Harvest dance!" McCoy snorted. "You're talking a whole Renaissance Faire!"

Kirk slapped McCoy's shoulder. "Thanks, Bones. I knew you'd see things my way."

"See things your way?! Wait! I haven't agreed to do anything yet!"

"Oh, but you will, Bones. I know you will. You know how much I depend on you."

McCoy ground his teeth together. He knew that Kirk could get anything he wanted when he turned on the charm.

“Just where in the hell did you go to Harvest dances when you were growing up?!" McCoy demanded in frustration. "Just what part of Iowa had knights in shining armor and pageantry from the Middle Ages?! That's one helluva stretch!”

“That’s why Sarek needs some stroking. Just think of the fun we could have, but the logistics of recreating the world I’m envisioning would take untold man hours, not to mention expense--”

“If you’re the one with the big ideas, why don’t you propose them to Sarek himself?”

“You know that Sarek has the hots for me. You’ve seen him go after me on the few occasions we’ve been around each other.”

“Don’t try to pretend that didn’t please something deep within yourself, and I’m meaning DEEP within yourself.”

Kirk had the grace to blush. “Well-l-l, I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I was highly flattered by his attentions, and I'm as curious as I can be about what he's packing between his legs--”

“You just believe the Old Wives’ Tale about Vulcans being so generously endowed, and you're wanting to find out for certain if it's true, that's all.”

“According to rumor, it’s a wonder that they don’t tip forward when they walk,” Kirk said dreamily. He sighed deeply. “It would be exciting to be on the receiving end of that, even if I had to be careful how I walked for a few days after finding out.”

“That’s what I figured. So you go dally with Sarek. You get your firsthand knowledge and let Sarek corner you the way he's always wanted. Get it out of both of your systems. But let the rest of us go on our peaceful ways while you're having your fun.”

“But I can’t do that, Bones. Sarek is the father of my First Officer.” Kirk shrugged. “It’d make me feel funny to be doing Spock’s father.”

“Sarek is also the father of one of my fellow officers and one of my best friends! Don’t you think that would make me feel funny if I was having some hanky-panky with his old man?!”

“Oh, you probably wouldn’t have to worry. Sarek wouldn’t be attracted to you, especially if I'm around.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say to McCoy. “You think I wouldn’t turn someone’s head?!”

“It’s not the other guy’s head that needs turning.”

“Now you’re being insensitive!”

“I’m being realistic. Bones, let’s be honest with each other. There’s good looking guys, and then there’s me. You gotta admit it. In a contest for who’s really got it, I would win hands down over you." He thought about it a moment. "Over just about anybody.”

Well, that really did it. McCoy’s manhood and charm and good looks had been challenged. “Big talk!"

Kirk shrugged. "Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it, I say. No sense ignoring the obvious."

That was going too far! Something snapped in McCoy. "Of all the asinine! Egotistical! Vain! Ah, ah….”

“Narcissistic.”

“Yes. Thank you. Narcissistic things to say--”

“I think you’re wrong,” Kirk cooed, spreading his net. “You couldn’t do this mission as well as I could.”

“Oh, yes, I can! And I’ll prove it!” McCoy gave him a look of victory, not realizing that Kirk had been the real victor. “You’ll see!” McCoy thundered as he glared into Kirk's face. “You’ll learn that you’re not the only one on this damn starship with a red-hot asshole eagerly ready and needing to be reamed out by a rock-hard, lusty cock with an alien brand on it! Point out the guy and then get out of my way! I don't care if he's the loftiest creature out there! I'll prove to you that I can be man-bait! Bring on that asshole wrecker! Because I'm ready to twitch my booty around just the way he likes it served up! Here's one asshole ready to be ruined! Let's see what that guy's got that's supposed to be so damned special! I say he's gotta show me just how great he is in bed before I'm reduced to a slobbering idiot at his feet! Not just anyone can lay claim to this asshole! No, sirree! It's prime real estate back there! And not just anyone is gonna get to screw it!”

In the sudden quiet, McCoy heard a rustling behind him and knew who it was before he turned.

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk greeted amiably with his most winning smile as he glanced around McCoy. "How pleasant. So nice of you to join us. It's something of a surprise, though."

"I did knock."

"Sorry that we did not hear you." Kirk continued to be amiable, as if nothing was wrong.

Dr. McCoy, however, was not faring as well. He had turned a most interesting and most alarming shade of red which Kirk and Spock were endeavoring not to acknowledge. McCoy did something like that on occasion after he had recklessly stuck his foot in his mouth without thinking of consequences. And now it seemed that he had made the stakes more interesting by adding not only the sanctity of his body, but access to it.

Spock continued his explanation for his appearance. “I walked into our bathroom and heard a somewhat heated discussion emanating from your quarters, Captain. I apologize for interrupting something that was apparently private, but I wished to learn if you were in some sort of jeopardy.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Spock. I appreciate your concern. Dr. McCoy and I were just discussing an upcoming mission of his.”

“It sounds as if it might prove to be quite stimulating. I wish you success with your endeavors, Doctor,” he said, glancing at McCoy. "You seem to be quite enthusiastic about it. You also seem to be quite, ah, prepared for it. At least mentally."

“Thank you,” McCoy mumbled.

"I further hope that your experience will prove to be all that you are currently anticipating that it will be."

McCoy simply hummed an answer instead of articulating a spoken one, and it was all because of Spock's behavior, a behavior which seemed to belie his bland words. Because McCoy had the distinct impression that Spock was mocking him.

Was that a twinkle in the dark Vulcan eyes, or a twitching of his lips into a grin?

One never knew for certain with a Vulcan.

But McCoy could have sworn that for a moment there that Spock had even acted INTERESTED in what McCoy was going to be doing in the near future.

But then, McCoy had to remind himself, one never knew for certain with a Vulcan about something like that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of the estate of the late Richard M. Nixon.


	2. The Cooler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dang! If you were any hotter, you'd be on fire. And so would I!

Jim Kirk knew he had no one to blame but himself. But the more he thought about what McCoy had so recklessly said-- had bragged about, actually, like he had secret knowledge of the situation or something silly like that-- the more Kirk got worked up about the situation.

Imagine Leonard McCoy thinking that he had the hottest asshole on the Enterprise! Such nerve! Such gall! Why, Kirk could think of several others, plenty of others-- including his own (well, especially his own!)-- that would certainly qualify quicker than McCoy's skinny behind! As if McCoy had the audacity to think that his was even in the running!

Kirk had just been blowing smoke up McCoy to get him to do something that needed to be done and had apparently succeeded in doing too good of a job of stroking McCoy’s ego. Sometimes Kirk amazed even himself with his powers of persuasion. But sometimes that ability came back with a cruel vengeance to bite him in the ass. And this looked like one of those times that Karma was snapping at his hindquarters with teeth bared and was eager to sink those sharp fangs into Kirk's meatiest flesh. Because McCoy's stubborn pride had been stirred, and now he would go out of his way to prove his claim about his own posterior. Kirk just knew it!

He'd been around McCoy too long not to know how he operated. Kirk had been too clever for the situation, and now there would be hell to pay! Even if McCoy wasn't particularly interested in Sarek, he would be bullheaded enough to plow ahead with determination no matter how great the cost, be it hurt feelings or broken relationships. Or in this case, a torn up anal canal.

Kirk knew how McCoy could get if he had a point to prove. Downright belligerent and bull-headed, for starters. Sometimes behavior like that from McCoy could be charming as hell, especially when he added his mighty store of Southern Gentleman gallantry to it. Other times, Kirk wanted to break McCoy's neck because of the way McCoy acted. Just let McCoy walk around in circles with a crooked neck for awhile and see how he liked it! Because McCoy wasn't the only one who could be belligerent and bull-headed. Kirk would show him! He wouldn't allow anyone to put McCoy's neck back into place for him!

Oh, no, Kirk thought with a sigh. If McCoy had a broken neck, Kirk wouldn't rest until it was fixed.

So Kirk knew he was in trouble with the present conditions as they were. He had to change the conditions somehow to his favor again.

There was no two ways about. Kirk would have to send a “cooler” along with McCoy to make certain he got sidetracked from succeeding too well.

And he could think of no one better to send than Mr. Spock. And he was right next door. Well, through their connecting bathroom, that is. But close, very close. And very available.

All it would take would be a simple knock on a certain door, and Kirk could set circumstances reeling in a completely different direction. That could set the stage for some hanky-panky that McCoy hadn't counted on. And then some fancy footwork that Kirk was famous for, and he could prove to McCoy whose asshole was indeed the hottest on the Enterprise!

“Come,” Spock announced formally although there was only the tiniest chance of anybody except his captain and closest friend knocking on that bathroom door they shared together. Still, formalities had to be maintained and recognized, even when the two were not on duty.

Kirk opened the door, sauntered in easily as he was quite familiar from entering from that doorway, then stopped abruptly with some confusion on his face. “Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude," he said as it quickly became apparent to him that Spock was not attired to receive company. Kirk made a quick evaluation of what he saw. "Were you about to meditate?”

Then Spock being Spock chose that moment to be obtuse and changed a quite innocent encounter to one tinged with embarrassment for Kirk by gazing at him with the guilelessness of the uninitiated and asking, "Why do you ask that, Captain?" And in doing so, made them both aware of the elephant in the room. In this case, Spock's very apparent state of undress.

Kirk waved a wayward hand casually toward him. "Well, uh, you know. Your clothing." And Kirk's unspoken "or lack of it" echoed throughout every corner of the room.

At least Spock had the decency not to pursue the topic and instead raised his eyebrow slightly as if he was a man of the world and quite understood what Kirk was meaning.

A little late, Kirk thought.

Kirk could feel a warm flush infusing him as he and Spock both looked down at Spock’s skimpy outfit. The silky robe flared with wide, generous sleeves from the shoulders and nipped in at the waist with a tightly tied tasseled belt showing off the slimness of his midsection. But it was the shortness of the garment that had galvanized Kirk and had sent his imagination off on all sorts of delicious pathways about what exotic treasures were being concealed just beneath that briefest of coverings. It barely reached below Spock's crotch and left little to the imagination about the lower part of Spock’s anatomy. But it still managed to conceal what it needed to hide from view while it showed off his well-developed thigh muscles superbly.

Kirk tried to remind himself that he was already in a relationship with someone, someone he thought the world of. But dang! Spock was looking vulnerable! And hot! And available!

Kirk gulped and said something utterly asinine because the quiet was sounding awfully empty around them and something needed to be said to fill it. “Isn’t that belt rather tight?”

“I will loosen it when I get in the lotus position in a few moments,” Spock answered haughtily. His unspoken "when you leave" hung in the air between them and was just as apparent as if he had uttered it.

“But won’t that expose everything that the robe is trying to hide…. I mean, won’t the floor be awfully cold to sit on with your, ah, skin all bare the way it will be? That robe looks more like a shirt than anything that will do you much good for coverage.” Kirk felt sweat popping out on his forehead. This conversation had to rank among the five dumbest he’d ever engaged in (Up to, and including, that silly exchange about the merits of using bird poop for a cleaning agent on car chrome. It might work, but it’s smelly as hell and gets a pimply teenager all sorts of weird looks from any cute girls who might be hanging around his second-hand vehicle.)

Spock gave him a wise look. “That is one reason I sit on a mat when I meditate. I do not like the cold floor on my bare skin any better than any other person does. In fact, I tolerate it far less since my body requires a much higher temperature to be comfortable than Earthlings do.”

“Oh, well, sure. Yeah. Of course.” Kirk wiped at his forehead. He wasn’t imaging the sweat. It had to be pouring off of him by now. And he must stink like a cheap whore in his armpits, he decided. Or a feral skunk in heat. At least Spock wasn't noticing. He seemed to have other things on his mind at the moment.

“I wish everything of my person to breathe as Nature intended,” Spock explained.

“And I’m certain that it will… with what you will be doing.”

Wrong! This was absolutely THE dumbest conversation he’d ever been in! The bird poop discussion had been way more intelligent than this one! It ranked right up there with the divinely inspired Christian Bible or any speech given by Winston Churchill!

Then he went and compounded his embarrassment by asking probably the dumbest question he’d ever uttered. “How come there’s so much material below the belt in front of your robe? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were wearing maternity clothes and you were quite a ways along.”

Spock favored him with that damn wise look again. “I especially wish for that part of my anatomy to be allowed to have sufficient room to breathe. I am certain that you realize how important it is that male reproductive organs be provided with ample space.” Then he let Kirk figure out on his own just what he had meant.

Kirk was light years ahead of him.

Then it was true!

Vulcans WERE hung better than most guys around! Even half-Vulcans must make allowances for the possibility of damaging door frames when charging recklessly through them if the male in question was tumescent. Furniture might get nicked full of holes something awful if passing Vulcan guys weren’t careful. Lamps and fragile vases in their presence probably had no life expectancy at all.

Yet caution was a small price to be paid for being so endowed. Minstrels probably sang songs about Vulcan dimensions. Or if they didn't, they should.

What would it be like to be on the receiving end of that, Kirk wondered and let his imagination stray to bedroom activities.

There went more perspiration popping out on Kirk’s forehead and in his armpits and other hidden areas that it would be best weren’t acknowledged at the moment.

Spock interrupted Kirk’s thoughts. “You wanted something, Captain?”

“Hmm?” Kirk asked with a vague look on his face. If Spock moved ever so little, especially that way…. Or bent just a little.... Just a little. It wouldn’t take much, then Kirk could indeed catch a glimpse of the cause of all the rumors. And his curiosity could be appeased.

“You came in here, Captain. Presumably to confer with me about something.”

“Oh, yes. Yes!” Kirk pulled himself together and tried to keep his eyes off the hem of that skimpy robe that was barely hiding all of those yummy Vulcan goodies underneath.

“I am certain that you heard something of what Dr. McCoy and I were recently discussing in my quarters.”

“Yes, Captain, I did,” Spock admitted but indicated with his further silence that he was willing to keep any information he’d overheard to himself. Apparently Kirk would not even learn of it.

“I admire your discretion about sharing any elements about that discussion.”

“Quite. It will not go beyond me.”

“Thank you. But I find that I must consult you now about that discussion.”

Spock squared his already straight shoulders as he snapped to attention. “Since that is part of my designated duties, I am only too happy to comply with your request.”

“It will be officer to officer, as demanded by official protocol.”

“I assumed as such.”

Kirk was relieved and tried to lessen the tension in the room. “And if you would please, friend to friend.”

“Of course, Captain. As you wish.”

“As such, you may relax. We aren’t on duty now.”

Some of Spock’s stiffness did go away, but Kirk knew that not all of it would. Spock was always a Starfleet officer, whether he was on duty or not.

Another reason that Kirk had told Spock to relax involved that skimpy robe he was wearing. In his efforts to be a model officer and stand at attention, Spock had forgotten that his clothing might not cover him sufficiently. Kirk hadn’t. And even though Kirk might like to get a glimpse of Spock’s endowments, it did not seem quite right to trick Spock into exposing himself. There’s a time and a place for everything, and Kirk decided that this situation fitted neither qualification.

Dang his sense of Ethics! Sometimes they backfired on him!

“How may I assist you, Captain?”

“I believe you heard how adamantly that Dr. McCoy spoke some of his words.”

Spock arched an eyebrow while a wily grin played along his lips as if he couldn’t control it, but Kirk knew full well that Spock was allowing himself some levity at McCoy’s expense.

“Quite, Captain. But that is nothing new with Dr. McCoy. He is generally inclined to exaggerate when it comes to stating his position on any given topic.”

“Hmm. And you’d know that better than most people.”

“I am quite familiar with Dr. McCoy and his behavior. And his speech patterns.”

“That is why I believe that you are the perfect one for an assignment I have for you.”

“What assignment is that, Captain?” Spock asked in an oily voice filled with pleasure that he was the only one Kirk would entrust with a special assignment. He had no idea that Kirk was leading him into a carefully laid trap.

“Why, I want you to accompany Dr. McCoy on his mission.”

That brought Spock up short and caused him to utter a most uncharacteristic, “Eh?”

Kirk had his attention! Now to take advantage of that while Spock was still off-balance.

Kirk pulled his hands behind his back and began pacing as if he was deep in thought. “Dr. McCoy volunteered for an assignment to obtain a special upcoming shore leave for the crew.” Kirk did not pause to explain how Kirk had actually “volunteered” McCoy through trickery. “While Dr. McCoy is quite the charmer and filled with Southern graciousness, I feel that even he may not have the expertise to convince the host of our needs. McCoy may use tactics that could be misinterpreted.”

Spock frowned. “Sir?”

“You know how McCoy can get. He's hellbent to do what he thinks is right.” Kirk stopped and looked back at Spock. “That is why I wish you to accompany him and make certain that he does not offer the host anything he shouldn’t.”

“Such as?” Spock questioned. “Promises that Starfleet would not or could not honor? Special consideration from our crew? What, Captain?”

“McCoy’s personal favors to the host.”

Spock blinked. That didn’t happen very often. Spock was rarely surprised. But now he acted stunned.

“Captain! Dr. McCoy would actually do… That?!” He frowned, considering. “Would he?”

Kirk shrugged. “You heard him. He said it plainly enough. ‘I’ll prove to you that I can be man-bait! Bring on that asshole wrecker!’ Sounded to me that he was pretty dedicated.”

“Just what is his mission?”

“To convince the leader of a certain planet to allow us to have a Harvest Party and Renaissance Faire there.”

“Sounds like quite an undertaking.”

“It will be. I wouldn’t want a bunch of crazed Starfleet crewmen running over my planet, trying to have a good time."

“But where is this place that Dr. McCoy is going? What man will he be trying to seduce?”

“When you hear, you’ll understand why you are the logical choice to accompany him.” Kirk glanced at Spock and figured he was about as ready as he could ever be to hear the news that Kirk had for him. "McCoy is headed for Vulcan, and he’s going to be trying to convince your father to host us.”

If Spock had blinked before, now his eyes looked like the wings of a butterfly fluttering in the breeze.

Kirk grabbed him. “Spock?!”

“Sorry, Captain,” Spock apologized as he fought to keep the darkness at bay. “That information came as something of a shock.”

“Sorry. I did try to soften it.”

“I appreciate that, Captain. But I do not know if anything would have prepared me for what you said.”

“I know.”

“Dr. McCoy does not know my father. My father’s prowess with both sexes is legendary. Sometimes I wonder why my mother stays with him. But I am convinced that she loves him. And that, despite everything, he loves her. He always comes back to her, and she always welcomes him home.” He frowned. “If Dr. McCoy has selected my father for a bit of dalliance, he will be disappointed and hurt. He will not know what he is doing.”

“This is why I want you to accompany him. Help him with the mission, but try to keep him from seeing your father privately.”

“Neither one of them will like that. Dr. McCoy is a handsome, charming man. If he flirts with my father, my father will be intrigued. And quite willing to see their episode to a satisfactory conclusion. Be it at a Harvest Party or a Renaissance Faire.”

Something about what Spock had just declared drew Kirk’s attention more than anything else and suggested another slant to his evil plan of messing with people’s lives. “You seem to want to protect Dr. McCoy.”

“I do not wish to see him get hurt.”

“And you also said that he was a handsome, charming man.”

Spock shrugged. “I have eyes, Captain. I use them.”

O-o-o-kay! Kirk thought as his agile mind added more wrinkles to the upcoming scenario. This was really shaping up to be quite a project!

“My father has eyes, too, Captain,” Spock cautioned. “He will be intrigued.”

Kirk gave him a lazy smile. “Then you will just have to divert Dr. McCoy.” He slapped Spock’s arm. “By any means possible, Mr. Spock.”

“Any means?” Spock echoed.

“Any,” Kirk reassured him. “Now, go get packed. You’re about to visit your folks!”


	3. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Punch and Judy Show with its classic squabbling routines at the Faire? No problem! We have a replacement! Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy have arrived to entertain!

“I still don’t know why you had to come along with me now,” McCoy grumbled as he left the shuttle that had delivered him and Spock to the surface of Vulcan. McCoy didn't like the company of his traveling companion and wasn't making any bones about what he thought of their current situation of being together. He had a sour expression on his face that surely even the generally clueless Spock could interpret as reflecting McCoy's mood and opinion about Spock's presence with him.

In other words, McCoy thought to himself, tread softly, Vulcan! Don't piss me off any more than I already am! This mission is dangerously close to losing one of its members, and I don't mean the Earthling!

They hadn't been been the most amiable of travelling companions, because McCoy had seen to it that he'd kept his arms crossed to fend off any efforts Spock had tried to use to engage him in conversation. And if McCoy accidently forgot and answered, he generally remembered in time to answer in monosyllables. And sometimes that was difficult to do, because more than once McCoy ached to straighten out Spock's thinking for him. So by the end of their journey, Spock should have gotten the message: Back off!

But even now as they alit from the shuttle, Spock was acting like McCoy was the most pleasurable colleague and travelling companion imaginable. But he was probably doing that just to piss McCoy off. McCoy wouldn't put it past him! Spock was dense. But he couldn't be that dense!

Anyway, Spock emerged and for a moment surveyed the endless vista of dry, red rocks as it was the closest thing to Paradise that he had ever seen. “I like to return here occasionally, Doctor. After all, this is my home planet.”

“I know that! But you could have come with the rest of the crew later on! Why did you think you had to tag along with me now?!”

“The captain thought that if I came here along with you, it would offer me the opportunity to visit with my parents before the proposed festivities begin in earnest,” Spock answered placidly. “In other words, while the premises are still relatively calm and free of decided distractions.”

“Really?” McCoy mumbled. That statement amazed him and he suspected Spock of stretching the truth. Yet there was that nagging fact that Vulcans do not lie.... But Spock was anticipating a visit with his parents?! Come on?! McCoy would find it difficult to swallow that whooper on any ordinary day, but now?! Now that they were on Vulcan under suspicious, illogical orders? McCoy hoped that his face didn't reflect his skepticism.

What McCoy didn’t say but what had always been evident to Spock’s crewmates was that Spock and his parents didn’t seem particularly close. At least they hadn't been anytime that the threesome had been observed. McCoy wasn’t expecting any great show of family closeness on this occasion, either. Maybe it was something that was so subtle that it was difficult to detect. But even Vulcans had to give observers SOMETHING to work with. A friendly smile that seemed on the verge of being sappy would suffice. Or a lingering touch in passing, say maybe even a trailing of the fingers along an exposed arm.

But maybe a demonstration of that sort would be going too far for polite Vulcans to tolerate. Someone who was caught being so flagrant might be cast into the Vulcan deserts to live off the land for a specific number of days. Knowing Vulcans, though, they would probably thrill on a sentence that would seem harsh to Earthlings.

“Do you think your folks will be willing to go along with hosting a bunch of burned out people needing some rest and relaxation? After all, it's gonna be something that they're not used to. A bunch of people letting down their hair and going native might come as quite a shock.” McCoy saw a puzzled look cross Spock's face and knew what was wrong with the idiom-challenged Vulcan. McCoy put up his hand and explained, "Before you ask, both expressions mean that people will relax and enjoy themselves more freely."

Spock's face cleared. "Ah, I can understand your references then." He put his hands behind his back and gave McCoy a calm glance. “And as regards my parents when they will be observing such behavior from our crewmates as you describe, they may find the experience edifying and instructional.” He even allowed a reckless look of mirth to cross his face. "They may even find such behavior to be quite entertaining."

That was the wrong thing to say to McCoy. Anger roared through him with the suddenness of a flash fire caused by the explosion of grain dust.

“In other words, you think they’re gonna look on us as a bunch of lab rats?!”

“They are your people, Doctor.” Spock acted as if he was highly amused, yet willing to ignore the whole situation because it was beneath him.

That angered something deep within McCoy on a molecular level. “Listen,” he growled, leaning closer to the walking, talking thorn in his side, “Those people have accepted you. It’s high time that you were accepting them!”

Spock blinked. “Are you saying that I am prejudiced against the crew of the Enterprise?”

“If the shoe fits, Commander… Wear it!”

“I do not know what footwear has to do with what we are discussing,” Spock noted. He was not as sure of himself as he had been.

“Listen, we are here to set up some festivities for the people we work with. I know this is your home turf--” That got a confused look from Spock, but McCoy plowed ahead with determination. “--and you’re in an awkward position of being part host and part guest. You’re gonna have a hard time juggling both sides.” More confused looks from Spock, but McCoy didn’t stop to explain. “But I think you are up to doing just that! So, stop acting so high and mighty and acting obtuse and help me with this assignment! If I’ve got to have you underfoot and stumbling over you all the time I’m here, at least make yourself useful as well as beautiful!”

“You think I am good looking?” Spock inquired hopefully.

“That’s what you took out of that?! A compliment?!”

“I did not know what I was suppose to learn from your monologue.”

“Oh, just follow my lead," McCoy muttered.

“Where are we going?” Spock asked, puzzled as he followed McCoy inside the royal residence.

McCoy squinted at Spock. “I swear, if I didn’t know that your IQ wasn’t off the charts, I’d say that you’re the dumbest creature who has ever drawn breath.”

Spock looked insulted.

“Oh, come on, let’s go find your father,” McCoy muttered, distracted. Then he gave Spock a sharp look. “I’m assuming, of course, that you are prepared to follow me everywhere I step. So I might as well save both of us some fumbling around and let you know when I am shoving off or changing my course.”

“I like your nautical terms,” Spock noted with pleasure. “They go along with the analogy that the Enterprise is a ship sailing through space and that we use naval terms and rankings for officers and enlisted men.”

“You would,” McCoy muttered back.

“It is so concise, though,” Spock urged, wanting McCoy to feel as pleased as he did. “You really should appreciate that there is a place for everything and that everything is in its place.”

“In other words, we got our ducks in a row.”

“I do not know about the arrangement of certain marsh birds in their accustomed habitat, but I can most certainly appreciate--”

McCoy stopped. “Enough! Give it a rest already!” he demanded, holding up his hand.

“Do you have certain information which you wish to share with me?” Spock asked with interest. “Is your hand what is supposed to rest? Why not your entire body?”

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes closed. “It’s gonna be a long several days, I can tell already. And it’s just starting.”

Spock looked concerned. “Are you suffering the beginnings of a headache, Doctor?”

McCoy’s eyes looked weak and out of focus as he opened them wide. “Working on it.”

“I am sorry to hear that news, Doctor. Do you know what has brought on that affliction?”

Frowning, McCoy stared at him. “You really don't know?"

"Doctor, if I would have known, I most certainly would not have asked--"

"You’re shitting me. That's it, isn't it? You're putting me on, just to see how much malarkey I can handle before I go stark raving crazy!”

"Doctor, I fail to recognize your point of reference--"

"And you're still doing it! You're still shitting me!"

“I do not know why you would use that slang expression in reference to me--”

“You mean you really don’t know?!”

“Doctor, if I did, I would not waste the time of either one of us to inquire about--”

McCoy waved his hand in air in surrender. “Never mind! Come on!” he commanded and charged down a corridor inside the official residence.

Spock obediently, and thankfully quietly, followed.

McCoy skidded to a stop.

“Doctor?” Spock asked with interest.

“Why the hell am I leading?!”

“The captain put you in charge of this mission. I myself was uncomfortable with that designation since I am the ranking officer between us, but I did not question the decision since the captain clearly outranks me in this--”

“I don’t mean that! And you’re rambling!”

“Doctor, I am merely providing any and all criteria that I deem to be pertinent to the discussion--”

“Well, you have a helluva long way around saying something clearly--”

“I am merely endeavoring to be precise--”

McCoy threw up his hand. “Save the bullshit! Talk in plain English!”

For once, even Spock looked exasperated and nearly at his wit’s end. “Doctor, I do not understand why you would wish for me to keep the excrement of male bovines. It is smelly and has no use except as fertilizer."

McCoy huffed and rolled his eyes.

"And I am speaking in English, Doctor. It just happens to be the Elizabethan dialect which I learned. It is probably the difference in someone who learned formal French in college trying to speak with an old World War I veteran who learned colloquial French in the foxholes on the Western Front--”

“You’re rambling again. And I meant to ask how come I was leading us in this place when you grew up in it. This is your home, not mine.”

“You do make a most astute observation,” Spock decided.

“Accepting that then, where would your father be at this time of the day?”

“I believe that he would be in his study.”

“Could you take us there?”

McCoy’s voice was unnaturally quiet and still. That made Spock nervous. Ranting and raving from McCoy, he understood and accepted. It was familiar. This was different. Almost foreboding. It made Spock feel a little off balance.

“Certainly,” Spock answered uncertainly.

“Anytime this century?”

McCoy’s stillness bothered more than the ridiculousness of his request.

“Are you being facetious, Doctor--”

“Yes! Now answer me!”

That made Spock feel much better. Screaming from McCoy was familiar, even if his eyes bulged out dangerously and the cords in his neck trembled.

“This way, Doctor,” Spock invited as he led the way forward. He felt much better, even if McCoy was muttering to himself behind him.

Spock turned. “Did you say something, Doctor?”

“Yeah, but not to you!” McCoy snapped back.

Spock glanced around the corridor, puzzled. “Then to whom were you speaking if not to me?”

“Nobody!”

“Nobody?”

“Yeah! I got the right to converse with whomever I choose! Including myself! Or nobody! Got a problem with that?!”

“Well, no,” Spock answered cautiously and slowly. Then, of course, he had to add to it because he is, after all, Spock. “But is that not counterproductive to speak to someone who is not there?”

“Maybe in your estimation!” McCoy snapped back. “But it might be highly important in mine!”

“I do not understand--” Spock started.

“Maybe you aren’t meant to. Maybe you should have some mystery in your life, something that isn’t so easily explained.”

“While it is true that I am naturally curious and am stimulated by something that intrigues me, it must still be logical--”

“How about this then?” McCoy drew close and measured about an inch in the air between his thumb and forefinger. “You are about this close to trying my patience too much, Commander. Wanna take a guess on how much longer that will take?”

“No, Doctor, I do not.” Spock had wisely decided not to test McCoy further.

“Good. Now where in the hell are we in this damn maze that you call a home and where is your father located in it?!”

As if on cue, a nearby door tore open and Sarek stepped into the hallway.

“What is all of the racket?” he demanded.

Sarek was mildly agitated, which was much greater than McCoy had ever seen him moved. Generally Vulcans fought to control their anger, and Sarek probably tried to be a good example for his people.

Spock was the first to recover. Not even a blink. Or smile. The lack of a smile at seeing his father after a long separation was what really bothered McCoy.

“Father,” Spock said formally. “Dr. McCoy and I have arrived.”

“I see that, Spock,” Sarek answered, equally formally and managed to calm any slight outward appearances of annoyance or alarm.

“You are looking well, Father. I trust you have been enjoying good health.”

“I have been, thank you for asking. And I trust that you have been experiencing robust wellness, also.”

“I have, thank you, too.”

Honestly! These two! If it’d been McCoy and his father, they would’ve been all over each other. But then the two McCoys were mere Earthlings and subject to rash displays of emotion unlike Vulcans who wouldn’t have yelled for help even if flood waters or molten lava was swirling around them.

Sarek looked around Spock and McCoy. “Then it is true. Captain Kirk did not accompany you.”

Perhaps it was the irritation and shortness in Sarek’s voice, but McCoy found that he was piqued himself and remembered that he had more than one mission. There was his private one about proving that he was just as desirable as James T. Fucking Kirk.

McCoy slapped on his broadest smile and stepped forward with his hand extended. “Ambassador Sarek! How good to see you again!”

Sarek immediately focused his attention on McCoy and took the offered hand although Vulcans generally do not like to shake hands.

“Dr. McCoy,” Sarek said smoothly. “How good of you to grace our planet with your presence.”

McCoy flashed his most coy look up through his dark eyelashes. “Well, now, Ambassador, where else could I be when there is the promise of hospitality from such a charming host?” He rolled his eyes in a come-hither manner that had felled some of the sturdiest hearts in the universe.

Sarek was instantly all charms. “Shall we adjourn into my study so I can show what plans I have made already for your entertainment? I believe you will find them to your liking.”

McCoy beamed at him as if Sarek had said the most wonderful thing he had ever heard.

“I will hear your plans, also,” Spock chimed in as he sprang forward. He had been momentarily stunned by the performance that he was watching from McCoy and his father, but he knew that he could not leave these two alone.

“That’s alright, Spock,” McCoy said dismissively. “I’m sure you have other things to do.”

“Not at the moment,” Spock insisted sternly.

“Here, let me take your arm,” Sarek said as he did so. “You look quite exhausted from your journey.”

“It was rather tiring,” McCoy admitted as he clung possessively to Sarek’s arm. “Oh, you’re so strong, Ambassador,” McCoy cooed as he allowed himself to be pulled forward.

Spock followed, wishing he could remember some of McCoy’s favorite slang expressions of mocking derision. He was certain that this would be a good place for some of them.


	4. The Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Scotty feels like he's interrupting something. And he's made to feel like he's a fifth wheel.

Montgomery Scott glanced around eagerly as he headed for the official meeting hall for visitors which the Vulcans had established to accommodate the vacationers from the Enterprise. It was in this place where they would be assigned their quarters while here on their stay. Scotty was hoping for a hologram of a lush forest for a window over the reality of dry red bluffs and searing sands which was the only scenery which Vulcan could offer. But he would settle for whatever view he was given as long as the ground didn't move beneath his feet for awhile. As much as he loved the Enterprise and the engines that drove her, sometimes he just liked the feel of normal gravity and natural air currents over all of the artificial living conditions on a Starship.

Scotty was more than ready to explore whatever had been prepared for them and was determined not to be put off by the bleak harshness of Spock's home planet. At this point he was open to just about anything, and the sense of adventure churning through him indicated that he was downright eager for whatever came his way. He felt giddy, almost like a child again. This feeling of expectation was worth the trip. It was almost like Christmas! If he got nothing else from this jaunt other than a brief change in routine, then he had already gotten his good from this pause in their duties. But he knew that there was going to be more. He could feel it! The excitement was in the overcharged air and he would take full advantage of it!

Then Scotty spotted someone obviously waiting for him and felt a flush of warmth as it flashed through him. "Dr. McCoy! So nice to see you!" he greeted jovially. The even-tempered Scot beamed at his crewmate as if it had been longer than it actually was since he had last seen him.

“Glad someone is happy about something in this cinder pit,” McCoy grumbled. "Welcome to the Vulcan version of Hell. It's probably not too far removed from the real thing," he muttered as he glanced around in disgust.

Scotty didn’t try to stop his good-natured grin. “Lad, you are in a sorry state indeed. Surely the situation isn’t as bad as all that.”

“Well, you haven’t had a certain Vulcan dogging your every step, trying to homestead in your shadow now, have you?”

Scotty’s grin deepened. “A certain Vulcan, you say. Is he our favorite resident Vulcan? Or his daddy?”

“Are you kidding?! I’m assigned to his daddy!” McCoy calmed himself. “And I guess that Spock is assigned to me. And he's damned dedicated to his task.”

“Then the lad is just following orders.”

“Seems that way.”

Scotty glanced around. “Still looks like Vulcan around here. Never thought of it as a resort area, though."

"You and me both!" McCoy grumbled. "It must have a hidden potential that I can't visualize, either."

With a thoughtful frown, Scotty turned his attention back to McCoy. "Do you know what Jim had in mind to pick a dry desert planet like this for us to have our shore leave?”

"Don't have a clue," McCoy muttered in answer.

"Does he intend for us to pick up rocks and heave them at other rocks? Or maybe take hot walks through a barren landscape? I don't like being a spoilsport, but I will bore of those activities very fast."

“Oh, quite an area is being refurbished for our use. You just can't see it from here. It's under a dome." Seeing Scotty again was working its magic. McCoy was beginning to mellow with Scotty's presence. He could even get enthusiastic about what had been created for them.

"That is good to know," Scotty said in relief.

"Jim had one helluva idea! This could develop into quite a resort and be a tremendous boost for the Vulcan economy."

"Sounds better all the time," Scotty had to agree.

"Yeah, it won't be so bad for us. Where the hell is Jim anyway? He wanted this! Now where is he?! The crew showed up with just fourth in command in charge!”

Scotty bristled at McCoy's slur. “Lad, I am perfectly capable of leading shuttles on a simple journey from the Enterprise to the surface of this planet! Keep it up and you’ll be spoiling my holiday mood!”

"Everybody's a critic!"

At that moment Sarek and Spock chose to walk up to the little group and helped to defuse the escalating situation between Scotty and McCoy.

“Mr. Scott,” Sarek greeted with a slight smile that did not reach his eyes. He was obviously not pleased about something. Odd how someone who made a practice of not showing his emotions could still quite clearly indicate his displeasure about something.

“Ambassador Sarek,” Scotty replied with a tight smile of his own as he automatically drew his hands behind his back at the appearance of someone of prominence. He had felt Sarek's coldness and had reacted in kind. He was a gentleman, but that did not mean that he was going to allow Sarek to play him for a fool. Scotty could be polite, proper, and respectful when required, but could also be as cold and distant as the next person.

“I see that you and other officers from your Starship have managed to find us,” Sarek added with no increase of warmth to his voice as he nodded with a snap of his head at the people behind Scotty.

Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov nodded back at him with uncertainty. That was all they could produce because they were fascinated and rather intimidated by Sarek’s sardonic and jaded, almost bitter smile. He was generally more courtly than this, but it was the decided angst that he was displaying that held them all in awe. Sarek seemed to be having a struggle with his emotions and was definitely losing.

Sarek’s strange behavior made the new arrivals feel off-balance. Vulcans didn’t act that way. And the Enterprise personnel should know. They lived with one. And even that one was acting oddly, too, as if they were all strangers to him. There seemed to be no warmth of recognition from Spock for them, either. In fact, he seemed to be almost looking through them as if their bodies were impeding his preferred view of the distant red buttes.

Vulcans! Who could ever figure them out?!

“And where is Captain Kirk?” Sarek snipped out as if he was having quite an effort to control his temper. “I thought that he was supposed to be with you today.”

Ah, that was the problem! Sarek had been expecting Kirk! “Captain Kirk sends his regrets, Ambassador,” Scotty recited and was quite contented that he was so prepared to know what to respond. At the time, he had wondered why Kirk had coached him so carefully about what to say in case Sarek asked just such a question as he did ask. Now Scotty realized that Kirk had anticipated that something of the sort would be paramount on Sarek's mind. “He was unavoidably detained,” Scotty finished smugly.

Sarek stiffened and stood a little straighter. “Ah, yes, unavoidably detained. I am rather surprised at that announcement.”

“Sir?” Scotty questioned with a frown.

“It was his idea to have your crewmen come to Vulcan for shore leave. It was he who approached me with that proposal, not the other way around. I would have thought that he would be quite curious by now about all of the preparations that have been made for the accommodation of his crew. When I last spoke to him about the project, he was very excited about it. And now--” He shrugged.

Sarek sounded querulous and just plain put out by the turn of circumstances. But somehow Scotty felt that Sarek’s ill temper was caused by something a whole lot more personal than what he was saying.

“I am sorry indeed for any inconvenience that this development is causing you, Ambassador--” Scotty started.

“You needn't worry about any of that, Ambassador,” McCoy broke in smoothly as he stepped closer to Sarek and brushed up against him as he took Sarek's arm. “You know that I am always ready… and willing… to hear more details about… any plans that you may have for--” His eyes swept Sarek up and down in a very suggestive way. “--us.”

Sarek gave McCoy a look of pleasure as if he was just remembering the availability of this delicious morsel that seemed more than enthusiastic to spend some quality time with him. Old Earthlings cliches such as a bird in the hand (or in this case, on the arm) was worth two in the bush ran through Sarek's head, and he smiled graciously at McCoy. If there was more than just a touch of lechery and avid interest also in that smile, it was McCoy's reward for being so enticing.

"Of course, Dr. McCoy. Come with me, and I will show you all that has been constructed since you last saw it. I believe that will be most appropriate since you will be the official princess of the Faire."

"Really? Princess of the Faire?!" McCoy's eyes shone. "Oh, thank you!"

"I think it will be very just, since you are the fairest of the fair," Sarek said in oily tones. 'There, Kirk, that should make you regard not showing up and making me wait.'

"Oh, that will be so exciting!" McCoy proclaimed with fluttering eyes and a shortness of breath that sounded like he was on the verge of breathing his last. In his eagerness to be attentive to Sarek, he tripped slightly on a rock in his path. To be truthful, it was only a small rock. And at any other time, McCoy would have kicked it aside with barely a thought about its size or its threat to his wellbeing. But those were times that he did not have the full attention of Sarek. So McCoy took advantage of that nasty ol' rock and used it to further his plans. "Oh, my!" he gasped weakly with his hand on his quivering throat as he swayed slightly and grabbed Sarek's arm with his old hand.

"Do be careful of your step, Doctor," Sarek urged. "Feel free to make as much use of my arm as you require."

"Oh, Ambassador, you're so strong!" McCoy gushed as they moved away.

"Allow me, also, Doctor," Spock offered as he grabbed McCoy's other arm. There was a slight shuffle between him and McCoy as McCoy tried to pull his arm away from Spock's clutches, but he was unsuccessful as the clinging threesome wheeled awkwardly away together.

It took a few minutes of stunned silence for their audience to realize what they had witnessed.

"What the hell was that?" Hikaru Sulu demanded in awe. "Sorry, Lieutenant," he said, remembering that he was in the presence of a lady and shouldn't be cursing.

"That's alright," Nyota Uhura assured him with equal awe. "It was very appropriate." She glanced at Sulu. "Did you get the feeling that we'd walked into the second act of a very silly melodrama?"

"And the first act must have been a humdinger," Sulu answered.

"Well, chins up, lads and lassie," Scotty advised as he did likewise. "Let's see what else the day has in store for us, shall we?"

Behind him, Pavel Chekov who hadn't spoken yet, expressed what they were all thinking when he muttered, "Aye, aye, aye, aye!"

McCoy stormed into his room and tore his arm away from Spock’s clutches as he did so.

“If you don’t mind, Commander, I’d like my arm back while I still have some feeling left in it!” he snapped as he glared at the ever-attentive Spock. “Talk about an octopus! You were all over me! What the hell were you trying to prove, anyway? That you could maul me as lustily as the next guy?!”

Spock crossed his arms over his chest and gave McCoy an assessing look that said that he knew what was really going on. “You would not say anything like that to my father.”

“I wouldn’t need to!” McCoy retorted as he crashed around his quarters, shoving aside things that were not actually in the road. He was making a royal mess out of his possessions, and it would require quite a bit of time to straighten everything out again into neat piles when McCoy finally cooled down. But concern for his jumbled clothing and toiletries was not on his mind at the moment. So articles went sailing every which way with his blessing that they could land wherever they chose as long as they didn’t put up any immediate objections as to how they were being handled or to their mode of travel.

The whole performance was causing Spock to cringe to himself. How could such a disorderly man be in charge of Sickbay where all sorts of medicines and medical supplies had to be kept in impeccable and easily located condition? Apparently the orderliness that was required in Sickbay did not extend to McCoy’s private sector.

McCoy paused with his hands on his hips, his frenzied moment of abstracted rearrangement of his possessions apparently over for the time being. Spock sighed in relief before he could stop himself. He really hated to see anything wasted, even Dr. McCoy’s energy. And the thought of all the energy it would require to straighten McCoy’s quarters again made Spock regret that loss, too. He seriously doubted that McCoy could ever relax if he had the opportunity. Maybe McCoy treated those suggested times of inactivity the same way he had done with his recent display of pique and saw it as a chance to throw possessions about just so he could gather and neaten them again.

“I wouldn’t need to say anything like that to your father, because he isn’t making a pest of himself. As certain other people most certainly are!”

“Perhaps I am making a pest of myself,” Spock volleyed. “But at least I am not acting like an ass.”

McCoy’s arms fell away from his hips and his eyes enlarged. “What the f---! What the hell are you saying?! Where did that even come from?!”

Spock’s dark eyes looked flinty. “I am saying that rock you ‘tripped’ over would have barely made an imprint on the sole of your boot, let alone have caused you to take a tumble the likes of which has not been seen in modern times!”

“You’re exaggerating,” McCoy mumbled, knowing he was being brought up on justifiable charges. He hated it when the Vulcan was right.

“Not as much as you exaggerated with that near ‘fall’ of yours. Do you think my father did not know what you were doing?”

“Of course, he knew! That’s all part of the game! It’s called ‘flirting’ and people engage in it a lot! They do that when they want to get the attention of the other person! It’s a way of letting the other person know that the first person is interested! I know that you don’t know about any of this sort of thing, but other people like to play this game. It’s fun! It’s exciting! And it makes the two people involved feel very desirable and wanted!”

“My father does not play games. You need to know that,” Spock said lowly.

“Is that what this is? You thought you needed to warn me? For my own good? Well, let me tell you one thing, Commander. I’ve been in more love affairs than you can imagine. I know how to take care of myself.”

“No, you do not. Not when it comes to him. He will hurt you and then you will hurt him.”

“How about if it doesn’t get that serious?” McCoy asked softly, suddenly understanding that Spock was in the middle between two people he felt close to.

“How can it help but become serious?” Spock asked. “No, you will hurt each other.”

"Here, let me finish that for you," McCoy offered. "Sarek and I will hurt each other. And then we will hurt you." He gave Spock a penetrating look. "That's what you meant to say. Right?" Then he butted in before Spock could answer. "Don't try to come up with anything else, Commander. Because it would be a lie. Now get out of here before I say something that even I will regret."

Spock gave him a conceding look as he cast his eyes down in agreement, then left quietly as he had been requested to do.


	5. The Stranger At The Faire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's rotten in Denmark. Or at the Faire on Vulcan.

“She walks, she talks, she crawls on her belly like a reptile!” sang out the sideshow barker amid the calliope of noise around his gaudy tent. “Come inside and see Little Egypt as she dances for you and sets your heart aflame!”

“She won’t mine,” Nyota Uhura muttered as she stood staring at the woman writhing on the floor across the small stage which stood directly in front of Uhura’s small group. Uhura was wearing a simple dark dress long enough to touch the ground. She looked like she had stepped out of a painting of a Medieval town square on market day. “I haven’t seen a woman yet to turn me on.”

“At least not one you’re admitting to, right?” Sulu teased gently behind her. His outfit matched hers in simplicity and era, except it was a long shirt topped with a dark tunic and tights. They were dressed as rural peasants and not the aristocracy. A lot of the crowd was, now that he thought about it. In fact, the crowds were quite thick. The crew of the Enterprise must really be able to spread themselves around and make an impression, he decided! Still, this seemed like a lot of people.

“I’m not judging,” Uhura snapped back, glancing pointedly at the ever-faithful Chekov standing at Sulu’s side. Most anybody who cared about Sulu and Chekov knew about the intimate relationship between those two guys. "Neither should you."

Chekov looked uncomfortable about the difference of opinion between Sulu and Uhura. He disliked any disagreements between his friends, even if they really didn't mean it and were simply teasing each other.

Chekov's clothing matched Sulu’s and was about as nondescript. They both looked like they had come in from their backbreaking labors on a nearby farm to partake in a day's worth of getting a glimpse of the gaudy, outside world.

Sulu grinned with twinkling eyes, but he had received Uhura’s message loud and clear: Back off! So Sulu did. He didn't want to start a squabble and ruin everyone's good time. There was a feeling of fun and excitement in the air, and he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he was able before the mood changed. Fun times had a way of doing that very thing, though, around the Enterprise crew. If he was a pessimistic, he'd begin to surmise that they attracted bad luck. More likely, he supposed, they drew intrigue and bad guys to themselves, and that was what changed the atmosphere around them. In the meanwhile, he was determined to have a good time.

Not everyone in their group was laboring under such an edict of optimism on himself, however. The token priest was the very picture of gloom and doom and rebuke as he looked around the open market with a critical, appraising eye.

“I don’t remember any sort of belly dancer being part of a traditional Renaissance Faire!” Montgomery Scott complained beside them.

“Really?” Sulu asked, not believing what he was hearing. “That’s what you’re objecting to about this Renaissance Faire?"

"It's enough!" Scotty declared as if that statement should put an ending to any questioning of his opinion.

Sulu turned his teasing to Scotty. "Perhaps the Vulcans are not strictly adhering to the activities and attire of the typical Renaissance Faire,” he decided in jest.

“That’s an understatement, lad!” Scotty replied in haughty tones and a mighty huff of air as he rolled his eyes.

“After all, it is their fair. They can present it anyway they so choose. And as long as we are being entertained, I believe that we should not be complaining any.”

“I wasn’t complaining!” Scotty snapped back. “I was just commenting!"

Sulu had gone beyond teasing. Now he had a point to make. "You’re some stickler seeming to be complaining about authenticity! What about you, anyway? How come you are wearing monastic robes? I don’t remember Friar Tuck being part of any Renaissance Faire that I’ve ever heard about.”

“It is how I chose to select my attire,” Scotty explained as Sulu rolled his eyes. “And as for the young lady giving us her version of a snake slithering along the ground, I would not mind if she was supposed to represent Isadora Duncan from the Twentieth Century as long as she illustrates the use of the female body as charmingly as she is doing.”

“You're right,” someone commented who had been lurking near the group and had chosen just that moment to swing closer to Scotty than to the others. "It all seems like a mishmash, and I'm disappointed. A lot of the Faire isn't authentic at all."

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Scotty scowled at the stranger who dared to impose on the private discussion between Scotty and his fellow crewmen. He glared into the stranger’s eyes, then his own widened with delighted surprise. “Bless my soul, it's the man himself! Cap--” he started, then jerked and bellowed, “--sa-- Yeow!” He collapsed into a spurting fit as his face flushed a deep, dusky red.

Sulu frowned at Scotty's sudden attack and Chekov looked perplexed about how to help him. Uhura just looked suspicious and scanned the crowd for an assailant, but of course she was too late to see the culprit.

“Capsa-- Yeow?" Sulu questioned. "What the hell are you trying to say, Scotty?”

“Nothing,” Scotty muttered as he attempted to gather his dignity back around himself. He glanced aside, but the mysterious stranger who had been standing closely beside him just a moment before must have melted back into the crowd as silently as he had appeared.

Scotty didn’t bother to explain that he had recognized the eyes of that mysterious stranger or the fact that the guy had stopped him from addressing him with his proper title before Scotty had blurted it out. For when Scotty had started to speak, the stranger had rammed a stiffened thumb up between Scotty’s butt cheeks and had found Scotty's bodily entrance secreted there. Then that stranger had twisted that said stiffened thumb upward as if it had been the stiffened member of another part of his anatomy eagerly seeking its home once again. And that can come as quite a surprise, even if someone was used to the antics of his captain as much as Scotty was used to the antics of his.

Now Scotty wondered why Jim Kirk did not want his presence announced to just anyone. But he would certainly respect Kirk's anonymity if that was what he wanted. And Scotty would not speak of it or try to explain, even if his fellow crewmen and friends thought he had been drinking too much mead already.

Scotty sighed. He only wished he had been drinking too much mead. Now, that would be a glorious situation, indeed!

“Nothing?” Sulu repeated with a scowl on his face as he looked with disbelief at Scotty. Then he thundered, “Nothing?! If it was nothing, then why did you draw our attention to yourself in the first place? And why did you bellow like that? Were you bitten by a flea?” His face cleared when he recognized a way to tease Scotty while reprimanding him gently. “Surely your costume isn’t that authentic that it actually comes complete with its own genuine Medieval flea? Now, that would be paying attention to the tiniest detail! I know that clothing back then wasn’t washed very often, if at all. So people and their clothing were packed with all sorts of vermin. But including a flea in period clothing?! Even that would be carrying authenticity too far!”

“Never mind that,” Scotty said as he put a restraining hand on Sulu’s shoulder to get his attention. “Where has the wee lass gotten herself to now?” he asked with concern on his face and worry in his voice as he looked around for Uhura. Only part of his concern and worry were genuine, however. He was happy to find a reason to change the subject. “She was just here. Now where has she gotten herself to?”

“She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” Sulu muttered, full well knowing that the slippery Scotsman was trying to duck their confrontation. “I’ve seen her put away her share of evildoers. I doubt if she’s starting to slip up with her skills all of a sudden.”

“Shame on you!” Scotty scolded as he turned bulging eyes blazing with self-righteousness on Sulu. Seemed that another part of his concern and worry about Uhura was real. “What if she was set upon by thieves in this den of inequity?! What if she is being held prisoner by some dastardly brutes?!”

“Don't exaggerate so! You sound like something straight out of Robin Hood and his merry men from Sherwood Forest. I know that it would be logical if they strolled by in this kind of setting, but let's not let our imaginations run away with us,” Sulu muttered, not wanting to let Scotty know just how much his alarmist words were making him feel uneasy, too.

"But the fact remains that the wee lass is no longer with us," Scotty reminded him in a calm, logical voice.

And Scotty's calmness impressed Sulu more than all of Scotty's wild ravings. Uhura, indeed, was indeed absent from their little group. “She couldn’t have gone far,” Sulu said as he looked around for the missing crewman. “As you said, she was here just a moment ago. She can't move very fast, not in that outfit she's wearing with long skirts flapping around her ankles.”

“A moment?! That is all the time it would take for someone to grab her!”

“In front of us?” Sulu asked logically.

“We were arguing! Our attention was diverted!”

“But Pavel would have seen her get abducted, even if you and I were wrestling on the ground. And we were, as you clearly pointed out, only arguing. We just hadn’t gotten to any sort of fisticuffs... yet.” And just by the way Sulu said it, the “yet” was quite clear, also.

But Sulu wasn't fooling Scotty any. For Scotty knew that Sulu would be the first to rush to Uhura’s defense if she was in dire circumstances, because he would never forgive himself if she was in trouble and he had done nothing to help her.

“Pavel?! Pavel?!” Scotty demanded, as he looked around in alarm. “He canna tell us anything! How can the eejit be doing that when he seems to be gone now, too?! Saints preserve us, the Devil is after us all!”

“Relax,” Sulu advised as his dark eyes darted swiftly, searching the crowds milling about for his lost friend. Everyone looked alike dressed as they were in the rough, dark clothes of the English peasants of several millennium ago. Sulu’s own mother dressed that way could be standing within fifteen feet of him, and he might not recognize her in this somber gathering. “He was just here. And you know what they say,” Sulu muttered because the sound of his voice was better to concentrate on than wondering where everyone was going. “Everybody’s got to be somewhere.”

The old adage did nothing to placate the worried Scotty. “That is hardly profound in this situation, lad.”

“I’m not trying to be profound.”

“Nor is it soothing.”

“Sorry, it’s the best I’ve got.”

“So, now what?”

“I’m not sure, but I know I’m going to try something,” Sulu vowed, sounding a lot like James T. Kirk would when he was in a situation he didn’t understand, either, or didn't seem to have too many options available. 

Sulu started to move away, but Scotty clamped his hand down hard on Sulu’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Sulu demanded.

“Making sure I don’t lose you, too.” Scotty always liked to make certain of what he did possess.

“You’re crazy,” Sulu muttered and tried not to get caught up in Scotty’s paranoia, too. But it was difficult, because the fact remained that people were disappearing at an alarming rate around them.

“Let us try to be logical about our searching,” Scotty suggested.

Sulu had to bite his tongue over the first thing he thought of since it wouldn’t be a very nice thing to say to Scotty. After all, he wasn’t the excitable one between them, and Sulu didn't want Scotty flying off in another tangent aimed at him.

“Alright,” Sulu agreed diplomatically. “We’ll try that.” He looked around. “Where shall we start?”

“That group over there looks promising,” Scotty decided as he led the foray toward a nearby cluster of people huddled around someone demonstrating something. “I don’t remember this many people coming from the Enterprise, do you?” he asked suspiciously.

“I guess they would seem like a lot more if they got crowded up together the way that these people are.”

“Still, it seems like there's a whole lot more than we started with.”

“We’re not here to look over the size of the crowd,” Sulu grumbled. “We’re looking for two specific people… remember?”

Scotty gave him a startled look. He was struck by the mocking sarcasm in Sulu’s voice. That was so unlike the courtly gentleman at his side. “What's your problem? You’re sounding like an old bear who just got his sore foot stepped on by someone.”

Sulu skidded to a halt. “Me?! I’m not the one yelling it over hill and dale that ‘the wee lass’ has gone missing!”

“And Mr. Chekov, too. Seems you’d be a little more interested in the welfare of the young lad,” Scotty chided him and got a wise look on his face. “Considering the special relationship you share with him and all.”

“I am concerned! And here he is! Right here!” Sulu announced with relief for more than one reason as he swung into Chekov’s side and grabbed his hand with a possessive squeeze.

Chekov looked up, startled, then his face softened and he squeezed back the hand when he saw his lover beside him. “Miss me, Hikaru?” he whispered.

“You have no idea,” Sulu muttered back. “Why did you disappear like that? And if you are alarmed about Nyota’s whereabouts, for heaven’s sake don’t voice it. Mr. Scott is wound up enough about her disappearance the way it is.”

“Disappearance?” Chekov echoed. “But she is just on the other side of me.”

Uhura leaned around Chekov. “Looking for me?” she asked demurely, clearly flattered.

“You have no idea,” Sulu repeated. “But what are you doing?” he was exasperated that her disappearance had worried them, but he was relieved and happy that she was alright.

“We’re watching this artisan making chain mail out of metal rings,” Uhura explained. “He’s using a jeweler’s pliers to spread open each ring so he can link it together into rows with other rings. Then he adds rows of other rings below it to form bigger pieces. Just watch how deftly he works with those metal rings.”

So the friends obeyed and watched the craftsman work his magic with the piles of metal rings. Soon he had something made that was beginning to resemble a man's shirt. They had to admit that Uhura was right as they marveled at the artisan's expertise.

"Isn't it something to see?" Uhura's eyes were glowing as if she was seeing her first three-story dollhouse lit up for Christmas.

"Looks like he gets in lots of practice," Sulu remarked as he noted the glittering rings awaiting their turns with the pliers. "Hard to imagine that he can make use of metal so skillfully."

"In that way, he can eventually create a shirt that the knights wore," Uhura explained.

"The thing must weigh a ton to wear," Scotty remarked, impressed by the strength it would have taken just to wear armor.

"But it's so unique," Uhura insisted. "A wearer would have to be in awe of the handicraft behind his shirt's creation."

“Are you in the market for a chain mail shirt?” Sulu teased in a brotherly fashion.

“No, but I might be for a bracelet made of the same chain mail. It can be hand-fashioned into a wrist ornament using the classic fox tail design." She gave them a flirty look. "The question is, which of you handsome gentlemen is going to buy me a beautiful bracelet today and make the happiest lady at the Faire?”

Sulu looked around, perturbed again. “No, the question is, where is Mr. Scott? Now, he’s missing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening lines to "Little Egypt" borrowed from the song parody by Ray Stevens. I do not own anything of the song nor do I represent Mr. Stevens.


	6. The Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nooky in the narthex. Or in this case, the shadows.

The question indeed was where had Mr. Scott gone seemingly in the twinkling of an eye?

Well, it certainly hadn’t been under his own power. And it certainly hadn’t been his idea. But it was starting to grow on him. He just would like to have been a little bit more in the decision making about what was currently happening to him, that's all.

Not that he was minding. Oh, no. No way. Not Montgomery "Don't mind my overheated driveshaft, Laddie" Scott. In fact, it was kind of nice-- being hauled away and kissed hard on the mouth when he'd least been expecting it. It might have been a little more appreciated if he'd had the opportunity to anticipate and savor the possibility more, though. As it was, he hadn't been in a romantic clinch one moment. And then in the next, he had been.

He'd heard about being swept off one's feet, but this was ridiculous!

And he was still powerless to help himself as he surfaced to what the world had been just moments before he had been so unceremoniously accosted. That had been mainly caused by the all-enveloping kiss that had engulfed him after he had been whisked away manually from his friends and shoved into the deep shadows between two buildings leaning precariously toward each other the further up they climbed toward the sky-- just like some Medieval buildings did in their day. Talk about authenticity! The Vulcans were outdoing themselves when it came to recreating the world of an era that wasn't even a part of their own history!

But Scotty was a little too distracted at the moment to give too much thought about what a good job the Vulcans had done with their handiwork to get ready for the Medieval Faire. He had more pressing issues to be dealt with at the moment. Literally. Because he was being held awfully tightly and kissed about as thoroughly as a man ought to be kissed and still live to tell about it. Or dream about it wistfully in memory during those quiet, lonely hours when no one is about to know what he is doing in his mind or with his hands....

But back to Scotty's immediate problem with the kiss that he was experiencing almost completely out of the blue!

A shaft of milky light from above partially lit up the two figures in the narrow alley, but Scotty hadn't noticed it yet. He was rather busy with all those hands and all of those lips that had attacked him so unceremoniously.

“Have some mercy, man,” he gasped as he clawed at his assailant’s shoulders and feebly fought to regain his breath as he was finally allowed to straighten somewhat into a more comfortable stance. “I don’t have any gold, if that’s what you’re after. For I assure you that I am only a poor priest and possess no earthly treasures.” For he had recognized his assailant even in the dark. He would know that kiss anywhere. But he stayed in character because he knew that this kissing bandit would like it. The guy was such a voyeur!

“If it is any gold, it is the golden nectar seeping from that gorgeous mouth of yours,” came the answer in a voice harsh with passion. “And from that golden ass of yours. Good thing you're wearing all of those billowing clerical robes, or else I'd be jealous of other people checking you out and dreaming about what they can never have. But I've got you now and I'm taking advantage of it, and you. Not even your high calling is going to save you this day, holy father. For the shadows will never tell. They will just stay back and be jealous of what we could share together. And you think think that you are blessed among all men now. Give me a moment longer and I can have you soaring with the very gods themselves.”

Scotty shoved him aside. “You’re not being funny, Jim. Some people take their religion seriously.”

“How about amorous? I thought I was at least being that,” Kirk murmured as he gave Scotty a scorching look and breathed on Scotty’s bare neck not protected by the cowl collar of his clerical robes.

Scotty shivered in spite of himself. Thoughts of that breath on his bare skin could send his mind picturing all sorts of delicious scenarios featuring Jim Kirk lying naked and willing in his arms. “How can I stay angry with you, you eejit?” he complained with a blast of hot breath of his own. “When I’m wanting the same thing you are, and more.”

It got uncannily quiet with a pregnant silence as the two lovers hungrily tore at each other’s mouth again with eager, burning lips. And as for their hands…. Well, they were all over the other well-known body with the assurance of long practice during long, languid nights spent in secret nooks reeking of carnal desires being sated.

"It's been too long," Scotty gasped out.

"Who woulda thought a few days could do this," Kirk managed to answer before diving in again.

“This is indeed a glorious pastime,” Scotty declared as he firmly shoved Kirk away finally. “But it is not getting anything solved.”

“Speak for yourself. It’s doing wonders for me,” Kirk murmured as he tried to dart around Scotty’s defenses to grab another stolen kiss.

But Scotty stayed firm. “You eejit! Stay focused!” he reprimanded. 

“I’m trying. But you keep getting away, like a slippery eel. Why are you playing so hard to get?”

“And why are you sneaking around in disguise and not wanting anyone else to recognize you?”

“I got my reasons,” Kirk answered simply as he drew away, probably remembering that he had a perfectly good excuse for his behavior.

Scotty didn’t like the cold suddenly surrounding them when he had broken the golden spell that had been enveloping them by referring to something that apparently was official. And he wished he hadn't. After all, this was the man he loved and who loved him back. They had the right to their trysts even if they were stolen from what were supposed to be not personal times.

“And why did you ram me in the arse with your stiffened thumb?” he wanted to know. 

Kirk softened and probably even melted a little. A lazy, languid grin curved along his lips as he gave Scotty a fond look. “I wanted you to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a hot anvil wanting inside your body any way it could get in there.”

Scotty sniffed. “Funny, you’ve never complained before by my ‘hot anvil’ plowing into you.”

“Who’s complaining?! I just wanted wanted to share the joy!”

Scotty smirked. “Yeah. Right. You’re just lucky I didn’t shite all over your cheeky hand.”

“But you didn’t.” His eyes darted over the well-loved face trying so hard to stay angry with him. “Besides, I always wanted to defrock a priest. I figured this was my golden opportunity.”

“Humph! What an ambition! But we will have none of that this day, my lad!”

Kirk raised an eyebrow Spock-like and made himself look decidedly like someone on the road to debauchery. “You aren’t out of this alley yet, either. Father.” Then he proved he had nothing saintly or religious about his intentions as he pulled Scotty to him once more.

Scotty didn’t fight him. At least, not for awhile. Hell, why should he when Kirk was offering him a mouth that was such a delight to kiss? And then there eventually would be other goodies that Scotty could handle as much as he wanted. And Scotty wanted! Oh, how he wanted! Jim Kirk was the hottest thing in the universe, and he was his!

And then Scotty broke the delightful kissing and pushed Kirk to arm’s length.

“Now what?” Kirk's voice sounded a little exasperated. "Surely you're not objecting on religious principle."

“The others don’t know what happened to me. Sulu, Chekov, Uhura. They were with me. They might be concerned.”

"They know you can take care of yourself. Now take care of me," Kirk insisted as he leaned into Scotty.

But Scotty was adamant. "They care about me, Jim. I canna let them worry needlessly. They need me."

“Not as much as I do right now. Let the others get their own person to love on. I’ve got mine. And I’m hanging onto him,” he declared as he zeroed in on Scotty’s mouth again.

But Scotty was determined this time. He held Kirk off. “Jim. Get back to business. Why are you sneaking around in disguise? Why don’t you want the others to know you’re here?”

"It wasn't that I don't want the others to know. I just didn't want my presence announced to the world in general. And my appearance would be the signal for some merry greetings all around, and I expect that hubbub would draw some boisterous attention that I didn't want at that moment."

Scotty's eyes bulged. "And you thought that sticking your thumb up my ass would be a more subtle way to let me know that you had arrived?!"

Kirk grinned sheepishly. "That was kinda for me."

"You cheeky eejit." It was meant to be a reprove, but Scotty's fondness tinted it so heavily that there was nothing but gentleness in his voice. It was almost a caress, and Kirk definitely felt it.

"What I wouldn't do to lie down for you now," Kirk whispered.

"And what I wouldn't do to let you," Scotty whispered back with his eyes on fire and his nether regions twitching. "I'd take care of ye fine and dandy, that I would."

“Listen, there’s been a little change in plans,” Kirk declared as he forced himself to concentrate.

“I figured as much when you showed up so unceremoniously after deliberating dragging your feet getting here.”

Kirk’s grin held no mirth. “Noticed that, eh?”

“What’s not to notice?! Your behavior has been crazy as hell lately. And I’m saying that in the kindest way possible. But a lot of that comes from admiring you so much.”

“And not because you love me?” Kirk asked with a crooked smile, but his eyes said how important it was for his question to be true.

Scotty drew in a long, slow breath because he wanted to say it right. “Jim, I couldn’t love you any deeper if I tried. I'm that much gone on you. And it probably colors my opinion and evaluation of you. But you’re the truest, bravest soul I’ve ever known, and I consider myself the luckiest person in the universe to be getting that love returned to me a hundredfold.”

It was Kirk’s turn to draw in a long, slow breath, then he gave Scotty a sloppy, languid grin. “Boy, I love it when a Scotsman gets sentimental. You can just gush all over the place, can’t you?”

Scotty bristled up. “You seemed to need to hear it!”

“Yeah, I did,” Kirk agreed. “And it was worth it. I just needed to know where I stood with my credibility with you since my ‘behavior has been crazy as hell lately,’” he finished as he quoted Scotty’s recent statement.

Scotty looked sheepish, but stood firm. “Well, you needed to hear that, too.”

“And I certainly got it.”

“Imagine what my opinion would have been if I didn’t support you solidly. Now, would you just tell me what’s going on so I can make some sense of this cat-and-mouse game?”

Kirk looked serious and turned away as if to put temptation behind him so he could concentrate on business. “Well, it all started because I wanted to give the crew a little time off. Nothing special, just some r ‘n’ r somewhere safe. Then I thought about Vulcan.”

“How did you ever do that?” Scotty asked suspiciously. “It’s not exactly noted for being an ideal vacation spot in the universe. Far from it.”

“I just got a wild hair, alright?”

“You wanted to sniff around Sarek a little,” Scotty said darkly, figuring his hunch was true that Kirk occasionally just liked being around something dangerous just for hell of it. “Something safe, yet a little exciting, too. Just to see if you could still stir up the juices of someone different. That’s one way that you and Sarek are cut out of the same cloth. You both like to flirt. Neither one of you probably wants what you seem to be after. It’s just a game, like so many things are to you. But you forget you can hurt people who care for you, especially if what you have together is supposed to be something special.”

Kirk turned back with solicitude. “Oh, Scotty, what we have together is special. And I’m sorry when I act crazy about someone else and hurt you the way I do. I know I’m a heel, but, darlin,’ it isn’t you or any shortcomings in you. I just can’t seem to stop playing the game.”

“I know.” Scotty’s eyes reflected his deep pain. “But I’ll be around for what I can get.”

“And so will I,” Kirk vowed. “I’d rather get it from you. Because I know what a big heart comes with it.”

“And not my big endowments you’re always praising when you’re enjoying the benefits of them?” Scotty murmured slyly.

“What can I say? I’m a fan. I gotta have some perks, don’t I?” Kirk answered with twinkling eyes.

And the look that passed between them was just as hot and as intimate as if they were deep in the throes of the wildest sex they had ever shared. They both hardened for that look between them had eliminated any amount of additional foreplay that they would have needed. All they had to do now was to touch each other and surrender to the familiar feelings that would engulf them. It would be so easy. Just reach out and touch--

“Right,” Kirk declared as he forcibly broke the look as he turned aside again. “This isn’t getting you told what’s going on.”

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty snapped, trying to help them both to be professionals again.

“Federation Command heard about our little project of taking some shore leave on Vulcan and contacted me.”

“Eh?” Scotty scowled and broke to pieces all of his attempts at professionalism. “Why would Federation Command be interested in that? I’d think it would encourage Vulcan to develop a new source of revenue. Somehow there’s got to have some potential in all of those dry, red rocks.”

“Trouble is, someone else has seen potential in the expansion of activity on Vulcan.”

“Eh?”

“That’s what Command contacted me about, not about our shore leave on Vulcan.”

“Ah!”

“Yeah. It seems that some bad guys were looking around for the cover of a big, noisy crowd to conduct some clandestine dealings. What better place than a Renaissance Faire with a bunch of people in disguise? Who's gonna notice a few more odd characters roaming around?”

“Aye!” Scotty declared, understanding the situation.

“Command isn’t exactly sure what’s going on. We just have to monitor the situation and learn what we can until another ship can get here officially.”

“Sir?” Scotty asked with a frown. “Isn’t this our mission now? Why share with someone else?”

“You and the others from the Enterprise are part of the scenery already,” Kirk said as he grinned at Scotty’s ruffled loyalty to his Starship. “You already have a role to play. Just let Sulu and the others know what’s going on.”

“It’ll be a little difficult trying to get to Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy,” Scotty said with a frown. “They’re a little too much in the spotlight to take aside and are much too busy with official events.”

“That’s why I don’t want them to know.”

“Sir?!”

“They need to play out whatever roles they’ve established, and they’d change if they knew something else was up. They’d become Starfleet officers again and break the illusion.”

Scotty frowned. “You’ve got a point there. The change would be drastic, especially from Dr. McCoy.”

Kirk grinned. “What’s Bones up to now?”

Scotty looked indignant. “He’s taken to wearing a long blue dress and makeup and a trailing mop of fake hair! And acting coquettish and calling himself the princess of the whole fecking Faire!”

“And how’s Spock taking all of that?”

“The poor lad doesn’t know if he’s coming or going!”

“I think it’s good for both of them.”

“I don’t know how you see that.”

“Tell you what I do want to see,” Kirk said on sudden impulse. “I want to learn if a Scottish priest wears the same amount of underwear under his robes as a regular Scotsman does under his kilt.” And with that, he knelt and dove under Scotty’s clothing.

Within moments, Scotty had to brace against a building to keep from falling. It was like a weed whacker had latched onto him.

When he finally emerged from the shadows, Scotty didn't have to explain anything. One look at his slapdash face told Sulu everything that had happened and by whom.


	7. Falconry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're going to do what? With a what?! To a WHAT?!

“I must say, it is a good day indeed to be outside and enjoying some sport,” Sarek said to McCoy as the two of them stood atop a barren red bluff and a little apart from a large crowd below them. This was the way it should be! Standing aloof and somewhat withdrawn from the admiring horde while he and a beautiful maiden let themselves be worshipped! As much as he loved Amanda Grayson, she would never have indulged Sarek in this small pleasure. And for that, Sarek would always love McCoy. Whatever else ever happened between them, they would always have this great recognition by his people.

Sarek gave his companion an appreciative look. “In fact, I believe that it would be a good day to be enjoying all sorts of glorious activities with you. You are such an agreeable person to have for company.”

“Why, thank you for giving me such a gracious compliment,” McCoy murmured demurely with a soft smile, but without the usual overproduction that he had been displaying lately with Sarek. There was no reason to be doing right now, since Spock was not with them at the moment. And McCoy was oddly not interested in stirring Sarek too much. After all, he didn't want to be known as a slut. Or too easy. And that surprised him.

He always thought that it would be fun just to see how far he could go with Sarek and sluff it off as a one night stand if the ultimate ever happened. No investment, no involvement, no regards. But lately, he realized that he wanted something more permanent with someone. And Sarek was very married, even if Amanda was gone for long periods as she was now on an educational seminar to Terran. They probably had a very open marriage, and it seemed to be working for them. Great! More power to them! But McCoy wanted more. He always had, he realized now. He'd just got tempted by the prospect of something a little juicy on the side.

Besides, the fact remained that Sarek was Spock's father, and there was something just wrong with McCoy being intimate with Spock's father. He couldn't quite put his finger on what that something was, but he knew he'd be stepping over some kind of boundary that would cause an unrepairable rupture between him and Spock. It was alright to tease Spock about flirting with his father. And it was alright to flaunt his influence with Sarek in Spock's face. But it would not be alright to receive the same kind of seed into his body that Amanda had accepted to produce Spock.

But Sarek had no such compunctions about Spock's absence since his flirting was for McCoy's benefit and not Spock's. “But it is so effortless to bestow appropriate compliments to such a deserving recipient. Especially since you are so willing to participate in whatever amusements I have to offer.” And his dark eyes indicated that other rewards would be forthcoming if McCoy continued being agreeable.

McCoy tried to acknowledge the broad hint without offering too much encouragement and yet seem to be attentive of his escort, too. Such a fine line! How in the hell did women ever do it?! The age-old flirtation rituals of give and take, flaunting and yet resisting, luring and yet denying-- How tiring those devices were! Yet rare was the male who could not be charmed and intrigued by them. Because there was always the possibility that the female figure would falter just long enough not to able to regain the iron reserve needed to keep a flirtation from going to its logical conclusion the way that Mother Nature had always intended.

For Mother Nature was not hampered by morals. Her only objective was reproduction, and everything else was incidental. Be it morals or conscience, it all went by the wayside in the path of lust. All Mother Nature required was two available and willing people. And two people attracted to each other

And no wonder Sarek was fascinated with his companion. McCoy was a winsome eyeful with his painted face that highlighted all of his best features and artfully hid the fact that he was past his first bloom of "maidenhood." But he commanded quite a presence with the enveloping gown that fit him just so as it swept its way to the ground and created a feminine silhouette that McCoy really didn't possess. If McCoy had it to do over, though, he might have chosen a deep, dark red gown for this jaunt out into the Vulcan wastelands. For the bottom edges of his frock were quite soiled and stained with the Vulcan sand and dust thrown up on it. Therefore the medium blue of his gown was impractical for wearing outside, but it was the shade that showed off his eyes to perfection and made his face look dewy-soft. A deep, dark red gown might have simply made his face look like it was on fire since the desert heat wasn’t helping his complexion any. He could feel his face drying and kept waiting for the moment when he could return to his room and moisturize, moisturize, moisturize!

Apparently McCoy wasn’t being attentive enough for Sarek’s tastes so he turned his attentions to the other female in his little group and asked with a tight smile full of irony, “Well, Falca, my dear girl, are you prepared to listen to my mindless chatter? Or am I doing a poor job of amusing you today, too?”

Caught! McCoy gazed with disgust at the falcon sitting on Sarek’s gloved hand as if it was the one responsible for McCoy’s bad manners and inattentiveness. The bird darted its head about as it seemed to check McCoy over as a candidate for a possible future meal. ‘Don’t even think it,’ McCoy warned as he shot mental vibes at the sleek-feathered bird of prey. ‘I may look fat and squishy and out of shape in this dress, but I guarantee that I am tough and sinewy underneath. There's nothing tender and juicy about me, so stop measuring me for your dinner plate. I’d hardly be worth the effort of spreading your wings, let alone breaking a sweat when you're trying to run me to ground. And I've got arms and legs to fight you. I'll beat the hell outa you and use what's left of you for a pincushion.’

The bird’s appraising glare at McCoy intensified as if it wasn’t buying one of McCoy’s lies. The bird had eyes. It could see that although McCoy was slender, there'd be some prime nibbles on him-- especially on that succulent ass that seemed to draw a lot of attention from McCoy's own kind. Maybe that's where the falcon would aim its beak for first. If nothing else, that puncture would alert the human to the fact that the falcon meant business and would not be easily deterred.

'Back off, bird,' McCoy thought. 'Or I'll introduce you to some downhome chicken plucking techniques I learned as a kid back in Georgia. It's been awhile, but I guarantee you that some skills like bike riding and chicken plucking are never lost. I might be a little bit rusty on style, so we might have us one helluva noisy session while we're both seeing if I can turn out what I'm projecting. But I can guarantee that when we're finished, you're gonna be one naked, scrawny bird staring in remorse at a useless pile of your former glorious feathers. Let's just see you try to fly then and be such a hot-ass killer in the skies! You'll be reduced to trying to outrun slow mice for food to get by until your feathers grow back in. But in the meanwhile you'll be the laughingstock of the bird world, and it'll all be because you tried to cross me!'

The falcon's eyes seemed to narrow as it ducked its head to look more threateningly at McCoy.

Sarek misinterpreted. “You females are the same the universe over, aren’t you?” Sarek asked with a smirk for he had been watching the exchange. "Always evaluating what another female thinks she has to offer and deciding she comes up short."

“Well, we do like to check out the competition,” McCoy stated, then frowned. "Isn't that bird supposed to be wearing a hood over its eyes until you remove it so it can see its prey? Isn't it a little bit dangerous to be letting it look over the whole terrain as if you were encouraging it to pick out a victim even though a suitable one isn't currently being offered?" 'There!' McCoy thought with triumph. 'You'll get a hood thrown over your head, and then let's see what your cheeky efforts will get you!'

"Oh, but my sweet Falca would never harm me," Sarek answered as he closed his eyes and stroked the top of the falcon's head with his finger. The bird chirruped with happiness. It was clearly in love with Sarek.

McCoy hoped the damn bird would start with Sarek's finger first or maybe even Sarek's ear that was so temptingly close to its bead. Maybe that damn point on top of his ear would be the ultimate insult. Then Sarek would look a lot like Earthlings. Served the old fool right if something like that happened! Then he'd know he was better off dallying with something closer to his own species! Forget the falcon! They could never be lovers! Not in the classical sense. Oh, Sarek might be able to finger the bird's hind end and pleasure it into starry-eyed chirping, or the bird could carefully use its beak to nibble Sarek's third leg into some starry-eyed pleasure of his own. But neither of those ill-matched lovers could achieve together what Sarek and McCoy could accomplish. No, Sarek and the falcon would just have to stay buddies! And that was it!

Yes, McCoy still had the upper hand when it came to important stuff like sex. He displayed his superiority with a haughty toss of the beautiful black locks flowing down his back, full well knowing that they shimmied and glowed in the harsh desert light and advertised his assets. He knew that others would be admiring the showy display from the royal group, too, and he pivoted to see the effect he was causing in the crowd watching Ambassador Sarek and his guest.

That’s when McCoy spotted Spock approaching and the game suddenly changed. He turned with a blinding smile to Sarek. “But enough of that silliness! When do I get to see this bird display her celebrated talents? Hmm? Hmm?" he cooed as he looked up demurely through his eyelashes. "I understand that you took up her training when you became interested in the sport. I think that is SO-O-O elegante of you!” he exclaimed as he wrinkled his nose, then grabbed hold of Sarek’s free arm and nearly giggled with his newfound enthusiasm.

McCoy's sudden shift in behavior was rather startling. Sarek and Falca both stared at him in rapt fascination as if he'd just grown another head. Sarek even blinked, but not Falca. The bird apparently was not going to give McCoy the benefit of a doubt about his motives. If McCoy moved any closer to Sarek (and thus to the bird), it was prepared to take out one of McCoy’s eyes and have it for a tasty snack.

Then Sarek saw Spock approaching, too, and understood what had spurred the change in McCoy. The elder Vulcan wasn’t stupid. He had seen McCoy’s interest of him increase when Spock was around and wan into something almost impersonal when Spock was absent. Sarek wondered if McCoy was aware of how obvious his behavior was or why he was even acting that way. But Sarek understood what it all meant and knew it was something as old as the universe.

Sarek also wondered if Spock knew why McCoy was behaving the way he was. Knowing Spock, though, and how naive he was when it came to the ways of the world, Sarek doubted that Spock realized that McCoy's coyness and flirting was really aimed at him. Indeed, Sarek saw that Spock was grim-faced and aggravated when he stared at McCoy clinging to his father. Spock was disapproving of McCoy’s behavior. And that was exactly what McCoy wanted. Sarek could see it in the satisfaction on McCoy's painted face.

“Father,” Spock greeted as he stopped in front of the pair.

“Spock,” Sarek acknowledged. Then he rolled his eyes toward McCoy as if to remind his negligent son of his errant manners. For Sarek had decided in the few seconds it had taken Spock to reach them that he would ‘help’ this clumsy couple. It might be more amusing than eventually taking McCoy to bed. Besides, Spock was long overdue to share a relationship with a good person.

“Doctor,” Spock said stiffly and impersonally in McCoy’s general direction.

Sarek sighed to himself. He supposed he should be happy that Spock had spoken at all.

“Mr. Spock,” McCoy murmured demurely back, then swung his eyes back to Sarek as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at him.

“Right,” Sarek declared and gave up his attempt as a lost cause for the time being. He looked at Spock. “Is all in readiness?”

“Yes. You just have to give the signal, and the game will be released.”

“The game?” McCoy echoed with the tiniest bit of awareness and dread in his voice.

“Let me explain how this has all works, Princess Leona,” Sarek started and saw Spock lift his eyebrow slightly at the “Princess Leona” title. Sarek agreed, but McCoy had insisted on being recognized by that name during the Renaissance Faire. It was his illusion, so he apparently meant to get all of the benefits out of it that he could.

“We could not use our native birds for the falcon hunt. They are much too fierce and are difficult to handle,” Sarek continued. “So we imported female falcons from Terran. Of course, then we could not use our native small animals for the falcon’s prey,” he said with a slight chuckle to his voice. “You need to understand that our small animals are more ferocious than Terran’s. If ours would be hunted by a falcon, the falcon would be turned upon and eaten. And that is not the idea behind a falcon hunt. Falcons should not become the prey,” he concluded with a definite chuckle staining his voice. 

“So what are you saying?” McCoy asked with the chill deepening over him. He did not like where this conversation was headed, but he felt compelled to ask. “Where did you get prey for your imported falcons to hunt?”

“Why, the same place we got the falcons. From Terran.”

“And those would be--” he started as he felt his blood turning into ice water.

“Rabbits and squirrels. Mainly rabbits.”

Cute little bunnies?! Not cute little bunnies!

“I feel you object,” Sarek noted, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Objecting was putting it mildly when disgust would come much closer to what McCoy was feeling.

“Surely you understand what this is all about,” Sarek urged. “Something must die for something else to live. That is the way it is with Life.”

“But turning loose a tame rabbit won’t even be a contest!”

“It is in this instance. The objective is to watch the performance of the falcon and note how she swoops in on her prey,” Sarek instructed. "That is how she eats. That is how she thrives. She is not a scavenger. She will not eat something already dead. She must hunt and tear it apart. She uses a special tooth on the side of her beak instead of her claws as hawks do."

McCoy forced back a rising bile. As if he'd needed that extra tidbit of information! “You know, it isn’t true that a rabbit has no voice. I heard one screaming when it was struck by a car and was dying. It’s a sound that never leaves you.”

“Leona.” Sarek was beginning to sound overly patient. “Vulcans are vegetarian for the reasons you are advocating. But we realize that others have no qualms about eating first-class protein. That is their decision and their struggle to appease their karmas.”

McCoy turned to Spock. “Is this the way you feel, too?”

“Yes.”

“I’m beginning to think that I don’t even know you people.” He studied their rigid faces. “In fact, I don’t think that I even want to be around you anymore.” And with that, he stomped away with the memory of Jim Kirk chiding him that he did, too, think.


	8. The Dramatic Exit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy sets all sorts of hearts aflame.

But McCoy's dramatic exit was foiled. For he was suddenly engulfed from out of nowhere by a rotund, greasy looking man with double chins and tight dark curls littering his face. It was as if the falcon Falca had suddenly gone berserk and had given into her instincts of hunting a moving target to fly after McCoy. She hadn't, though, for Falca was still patiently standing on Sarek's gloved hand and watching McCoy's retreat.

"Wait!" the interloper pleaded as he panted after McCoy. "Please! Wait!"

McCoy took one glance and saw that this person had nothing he might ever need or want, especially in the romance department. So McCoy continued on his way.

But the guy did not give up easily. His dark eyes were bulging with desire, and sweat was trickling down his swarthy face as if he had been running a long, hard time to arrive where he was. "Will you wait a minute? Please?!" he begged as he drew and released great lungsful of air. He looked and acted as if he might keel over lifeless at any moment.

McCoy did not wish to be responsible for someone dropping dead beside him. He was, after all, still a doctor and a healer. So he skidded to a stop. "What?!" he demanded.

The guy beamed with delight. "My beloved!"

"Nope," McCoy muttered and turned to leave.

The stranger saw his chance. With a beaming face, he reached out to gather McCoy to himself, but McCoy instinctively ducked. “Wait! I must have you, Princess! Let me touch anything of you! A hip! An arm!" the man called out as he managed to grab a handful of McCoy's flowing sleeve and thereby the treasured arm.

"Do us both a favor and get lost, mister!" McCoy muttered as he fought off the man's grasping hands and tried to get away.

But--"

"Listen! You don't have what it takes to turn me on! So turn loose of me while you still can call that mangy hand yours and not a bloody stump!"

"But you stared down a falcon! You defied a king!"

"I did what was right! That carries its own power! Now. Let. Go. Of. Me!" McCoy demanded with fresh strength as he twisted and turned to rid himself of the grasping man. He noticed that Spock and Sarek had drawn closer with concern on their faces. The falcon just stared as if wondering what jest the humans would perform next to entertain it. So far, the day had been quite rewarding for it.

McCoy leaned closer to his assailant to utter, "I warn you. I know pressure points. And if need be, I can remove your gonads so fast, you won't even miss them until the blood starts pouring down your legs. And if that doesn't impress you, I'll use a rusty knife and no antiseptic! Then when your whole groin swells up with infection, you'll have something else to think about than accosting someone not interested in having your sleazy body sprawled all over the top of his and grunting like a hog trying to take a hard shit!"

But the man's ardor was only incensed by McCoy's refusals. New interest flared into his piggish eyes. "What fire! What passion! What a speech you just made! And the one about the dastardly eating habits of that brutal bird was powerful, too. That is what first attracted me. You do not mince words, do you, my pretty one?"

McCoy stopped struggling, narrowed his eyes, and studied him as if he was a new form of virus he'd just spotted under a microscope. "I'll tell you just what I think; yes. And I am not your pretty one!"

The man's eyes blazed with impossible hope and joy. "And you will let your opinions be known?!"

McCoy frowned. "Hell, yes! They'll be hard to miss! I can guarantee you that much! If that's what's needed so you'd understand just where I stood, you'd get blasted with both barrels!"

"I knew it!" the man crowed as he pinched his small eyes shut with delight and opened his mouth in glee. "You must be a pit of burning embers in bed! I yearn to be with you and explore your hidden depths! Do not deny me! Say you'll be mine!”

“You’re nuts!” McCoy growled as he shoved his new admirer aside and left all of those upsetting people behind him.

But the enraptured man was not to be denied and called after McCoy as he tried to keep up with McCoy’s speed, “Such spunk! Such fervor! I long to possess you! Say what you require, and I will gladly pay your bride price!”

“There’s not enough wealth in the universe!” McCoy called back. Then he paused and glanced at the sweating man struggling to reach him. “For my heart will only be given for true love. Otherwise, no one can possibly afford me!” And with that, he turned and was on his way again.

The man stopped abruptly and held out his hand. “But, Princess Leona--” he sobbed desperately while his face reflected the tragedy that had befallen him. “You did not hear me out! I would honor you!” But his suit was to no avail. He turned in defeat and sorrow to Spock and to Sarek who had caught up with him. Sarek was still holding the curious Falca. “Why was the young maiden so abrupt? Could she not see how fervent my intentions were?”

Princess Leona was not the only one whose eyesight was short, Sarek thought as he studied the miserable man before him. Sarek had heard of falling in love at first sight. He had probably been guilty of it himself when he had first beheld Amanda Grayson in all of her glory and attributes. But this man’s ardor had literally come over him in a heartbeat as McCoy had reacted to what he considered to be a disgusting situation.

“It is a fault of the young, Sir Reginald,” Sarek murmured, wishing to change the topic. He watched the spurned man slink away, then turned to Spock. “Dr. McCoy is quite distraught.”

“I noticed that.” Quite a non-committal answer.

“You need to go after him and calm him down.”

That got some results.

“Me?!” Spock retaliated as he jerked in protest. He had a fine sense of justice, and he felt as if his father was not being fair. Sarek was one of the few people who could get an animated reaction out of his son. “I did not cause his outburst! He did that to himself!”

“Spock.” Sarek was also one of the few people who could calm Spock down, and he performed that miracle now by simply uttering Spock’s name. “Dr. McCoy’s reaction is called outrageous indignation. And he was entitled to his response.”

Spock rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to relax himself. “Still, it was an uncalled for display of emotions, especially in a public setting.”

“And once again, that is not for us to judge. Dr. McCoy adheres to different standards than we do.”

“I have always found him to be an honorable and gracious person.” Spock's face darkened. “Until lately. Being princess of this Faire has brought out an egotistical and self-centered side to him that I do not like."

"Perhaps he is not here to act the way you want him to act," Sarek mocked lightly. It was endearing to think that McCoy was getting under Spock's skin with his behavior and annoying the hell out of him. Good! It was time for Spock to realize what he actually thought about McCoy.

Spock was continuing his list of grievances against McCoy's actions. "Also, he should not be flaunting himself around people. It sends the wrong message.”

Sarek ignored the reference to himself. “Still, his behavior is his choice. He is not here to please us.”

“It would be nice, though, if he was a little more considerate,” Spock grumbled.

“Why is that so important to you?” Sarek asked, suddenly changing his line of questioning.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you concerned so much with Dr. McCoy’s conduct?”

“We are colleagues. And friends….” He frowned. “I suppose.”

"Then why don't you go see if you can be of some aid to your friend?"

Since Spock had no logical rebuttal for that request but wanted his reluctance noted, he lifted an eyebrow slightly, then left to comply.

"Oh, Falca," Sarek sighed to his falcon as they watched Spock depart. "The ways of a matchmaker are not always smooth, are they?" Then he looked down at her with a smile of pride. She really was a magnificent bird.

Falca studied Sarek as if she understood what he was saying, but she was probably just wondering when she would get fed next.

Unknown to Spock and Sarek, McCoy’s dramatic exit had been foiled a second time as he had tried to storm away. But this interruption had been unobserved by anyone. For McCoy’s assailant had waited until McCoy had rounded a huge red boulder to grab him and drag him struggling into the shelter of a few nearby rocks.

“What the hell's going on today?! Do I have victim written all over me?! Go pester somebody else! I have no money!" McCoy protested when the scruffy looking bandit finally released him. "And if you're after something else, I'm gonna tell you right now that you're in for one helluva big surprise! Don't let this dress mislead you! There's nothing under these skirts that you could be after!”

“Bones! For Pete’s sake!" Kirk whispered in his ear. "I'm not gonna rob you. Or try to rape you. Now shut up before you raise a general alarm!"

McCoy's eyes enlarged. "Jim?! What the f--" That's all he got said before Kirk slammed his hand over his mouth.

"Now, I'm gonna turn you loose. Just don't bolt on me. You won't be able to move too fast in those long skirts.” He slowly released his hold on McCoy, then grinned as he gave McCoy’s rumpled costume a quick look-over. “Although it looks like I might be a little late attempting that last one I mentioned.”

“Humph!” an annoyed McCoy grunted as he straightened his shifted bodice and ran a hand down his raven locks. “You’d have to get in line if that’s what you’re after. Sir Reginald has already tried for it. He didn't even get to first base, let alone home plate.”

Kirk’s grin deepened. “I saw that. And I can’t say that I blame him. You’re quite a toothsome morsel. And then that fiery speech you gave was guaranteed to enflame the loins of any suiter." He grinned at McCoy's huff of exasperation. "No wonder the guy was intrigued. I might have to make room for you myself. Interested in a little dalliance further behind these boulders?” he teased.

“Back off, Kirk. I’ve had about my fill of pretty talk for one day, so I'm not tempted. I don't care how much treasure you could offer me.” He scanned Kirk’s own clothing. “And what the hell are you supposed to be representing anyway?! You look like you’ve been living in the forest too long, or maybe the pigsty. Do you smell as bad as you look?” He leaned closer and sniffed. Nothing. Just Kirk scent.

“Nope. I’m not that authentic. I just look rustic.”

“Where the hell have you been all this time?! And why in the hell are you lurking around now like a poor man’s Robin Hood?!”

“Good questions, and I’ll answer them. First, where were you headed just now?”

“Back to my room to pack and then it’s off to the Enterprise with me. I’ve had about enough holiday to last me for awhile. Bring on the Romulans or a plague running rampant through the ship. At least those things I understand and know how to fight them.” Pain crossed his face. “Not what’s going on here.”

"Sorry that you're having a bad experience. Renaissance times weren't all poetry reading and troubadours plunking love songs dedicated to pretty maidens. Bad stuff went on, just like it is now."

McCoy frowned. "What are you talking about? Is that why you're slinking around in disguise?"

"Yes. It's for a good reason. But I gotta stay undercover for just a little bit longer. And it's imperative that you stay here in your current situation, or your departure would raise suspicions. Somebody is using the Faire as a cover. We think it's some of the men with the guy you just tangled with."

"Sir Reginald? He's not bright enough to run some sort of clandestine operation." He frowned. "He's got his mind on getting only one thing at this party, and suddenly he thinks it's located under my skirts!"

"We think his men are planning some sort of coup to make him look bad at the Faire."

"That shouldn't be too much trouble. He's helping as much as HE can! If you haven't noticed, he's not the sharpest knife at the table. All I know is that his power must be inherited. There ain't no way he came up through the ranks to be in charge!"

Kirk grinned. "Sex can make slobbering idiots out of all of us, even the brightest and the bravest. He's been quite a warrior in his time."

"Him?!" McCoy made a face. He couldn't quite picture that.

"In fact, I understand that's why Sir Reginald's here. To compete in the tournaments tomorrow."

"That should be some performance. If he doesn't break the back of his horse with him AND his armor both on the poor creature!"

Kirk grinned. "I never knew you were such an animal rights advocate, Bones. First, the falcon's prey and now a knight's horse."

"Comes with the territory," McCoy grumbled. "How long is this madness gonna go on, anyway?"

"We've almost got the bad guys, but it's essential that you and Spock keep on doing just what you've been doing for a little bit longer."

"What? Disgusting each other?" McCoy asked with sarcasm dripping all over his words.

"Sorry if it'll be a trial."

"Oh, that'll be the easy part. Just don't ask me to be nice to him!"

"Just keep on being the fairest maiden at the Faire, and I'll handle the rest. Oh, and when a knight offers you a yellow rose like these tomorrow, take it. It'll be from me. Here. These are for you now," he said, handing over several blossoms. "I think they'll be the perfect accessory for you."

"Thanks." McCoy threaded them into his raven locks and primped. "How do I look?"

"Perfect! Now, I'll want a token from you tomorrow, too, to wear. That blue silk scarf from around your neck will do."

"I'm hiding the fact that my bosom is nonexistent."

"It'll work fine for my purposes, too. It'll let everyone know that I'm your champion."

"Champion? Champion of what?"

"Why, of the games, of course."

McCoy jerked. "You?! Don't tell me you're gonna be risking your sorry ass in a jousting contest?!"

"I've been practicing," Kirk answered proudly. "The rest of you can't have all the fun."

"Oh, hell," McCoy muttered. "I can see bodies piling up now. Damned good thing I brought along my scanner and other goodies."

Kirk's smile was blinding. "Oh, Bones, you're the best! You let me play, and everything!" He caught McCoy up in an enveloping hug that threatened to knock him off his feet.

"Yeah, well, somebody has to be around to patch you up," McCoy grumbled as he absently patted Kirk on his back. "Just be careful, huh? I don't want you being one of those bodies in the pile, okay? I'm good, but I can't heal the dead, even if you think I can."

"Oh, Bones, what would I do without you?!" And to prove his undying affection, Kirk planted a loud, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Stop that!" McCoy grumbled as he made a dramatic show of wiping at his cheek. "You're the second overheated guy slobbering over me today! Well, I guess there's been others," he had to admit. "But one of them was torn between me and a peregrine falcon."

"If you've got it, Bones, it's hard to miss."

"Yeah, yeah," McCoy continued grumbling and wiping at his face while Kirk gave him another crushing hug.

Unknown to them, Spock was frowning as he was taking in the whole scene. He had just come around the corner of the big boulder in time to see a scruffy stranger hugging McCoy and kissing him. And McCoy was not fighting him off. On the contrary, McCoy seemed to be hugging the guy back with all of his might.

McCoy and the stranger left, then Spock picked up the yellow thing that had fallen off McCoy during the hugging. It was a rose.

Spock's frown deepened. What kind of vixen was McCoy, anyway? First Spock's father, then Sir Reginald, and now some riffraff lured out of some dark corner of the forest by the excitement of a Faire. McCoy's depravity seemed to know no bounds. All of the men seemed to be after him.

His father wanted Spock to talk to McCoy. Well, it certainly was time that someone did!


	9. The Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock tries being a buddy, not exactly his strong suit. No wonder then that his efforts have mixed results.

Talking to Jim had helped to calm McCoy down a great deal. His captain had always had that effect on him, even though Kirk could be something of a loose cannon sometimes himself. In fact, Kirk often encouraged mayhem just for the fun and excitement of dealing with the fallout it created. But today, just his presence on-scene had seemed to ground McCoy and to reassure him that there was still somebody somewhere who had some control of what was going on. Logically, in his heart McCoy knew that Kirk had no more control of anything than he did. But Kirk gave the illusion that he did, and that was all that mattered to McCoy.

And just seeing his friend had gladdened McCoy's heart, even though it had been less than a week since they had parted. Somehow it seemed longer. McCoy got the reassurance that he was doing a good job on his mission, even though he didn't always understand how. All in all, just being around Kirk had pepped him up and refocused him. It meant that McCoy was feeling a whole lot better by the time he got back to his quarters. That episode about the falcon had been emotionally draining.

But McCoy also realized that he was suddenly tired as his shoulders slumped and he dragged himself into the sanctuary of his room. The incidents of the last hour or so had really taken a lot out of him. And when the adrenaline had stopped pumping, it had left his body exhausted and weak and in dire need of rest. And the only thing that sounded good to him was some serious sack time in bed.

He chided himself. This was hardly becoming behavior for the fairest maiden at the Faire! But it couldn't be ignored. It was what it was and McCoy had to accept it. He studied his ashen face in the mirror. Exhaustion wasn't doing him any favors. His cheeks looked hollowed by the ghastly makeup that had once turned him magical when he had applied it for outdoors light. Now he just looked haggard and not worthy of being a princess at all.

Disgraceful, McCoy thought disdainfully as he raked off his glorious long, raven locks. He let the wig dangle loosely in his hands as he studied it. It really was quite beautiful with the yellow blossoms threaded so artfully through it. The whole effect had made him look quite regal indeed. The flowers were beginning to wilt already now, though. And with them, all that had happened in such a short amount of time.

McCoy sighed to himself. Already the glamour was fading from this day. Soon it would all be only a distant memory.

So fast it was all over! But what a day it had been! And just the thought of all that had occurred rejuvenated him.

He’d flirted with the glamorous ruler of one planet and had been accosted by the enamored leader of another one! No one could ever take that away from him, no matter how hard they tried. And all the while, a large crowd had watched and had wished they could be him. Then he’d been whisked away into a secret hideaway by an outlaw of the forest and had been gifted with fragrant flowers and the reassurances that he would be chosen by a mysterious knight to be his lady fair the next day at the tournaments! How romantic!

He smirked with irony at the futility of the rest of the day. As with any day of glory, there were always reminders that not all that had happened had been romantic or idealistic. But it had certainly been real.

For he had saved the life of one frightened bunny rabbit and had championed its right to live in the face of certain death.

McCoy smirked. Yeah, he'd done that, alright. But just what had he saved that one frightened bunny rabbit for? Because even now that same rabbit was probably providing the daily meal of one beautiful peregrine falcon named Falca. She was probably tearing chunks of warm meat off the bones of the rabbit who blessedly didn’t care and most certainly didn’t hurt anymore. As Sarek had told McCoy, “Something must die for something else to live.” For Falca had the right to live, too, and the way in which she was used to living.

C’est la vie!

‘Ah, yes! So is life,’ McCoy thought as he stumbled to his bed and fell across it in a dead stupor. It was almost as if he had been poisoned by an enchanted apple and had been drugged by it. His sleep was that deep and that complete.

But all through his dreams, it seemed he could hear the screams of one frightened bunny rabbit which he had failed to save completely. And dreams repeated his waking life. For it was not the patients who lived that McCoy remembered, but the ones who had died in his hands.

The insistent pinging on his door brought McCoy up out of his slumbers as rudely as if someone had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked. One moment asleep and the next, fighting to figure out what was going on and where the hell he was. He lurched toward the door in a daze and tried to figure out what was causing a distinct buzzing in his ears. Probably just the fast change in body position, the physician inside his head told him.

The door pinged again.

“Yeah! Yeah! I’m coming! I'm coming! Keep your pants on! Don't go exposing yourself and blinding someone! I don't want to have to fix that!” He jerked the door open and stared at Spock who was standing there with his finger aimed to ping the door again.

Spock stared back. In fact, his eyes were practically bugging out of their sockets and getting bigger by the second.

“What the hell do you want?!” McCoy growled as he squinted crossly at his visitor. “Or did you show up just to make faces at me?!”

“You look… different,” Spock managed to get out. “There is something wrong with your face. It looks like it has melted.”

“Well, thanks. You're no prize yourself. You know, you could have said a lot of things without that one coming out of your mouth.” He stepped aside. "Well, come on in, if you gotta. And shut your mouth before you cause a draft. I don't wanna catch a chill."

“I apologize for staring. But I cannot tell a lie. This is not your best look, Doctor.”

“Welcome to the world of the morning after,” McCoy mumbled as he stumbled toward a chair. “What you saw awhile ago when I was looking beautiful at the falcon hunt is the magic of makeup,” he said as he collapsed into the chair and closed his eyes for a moment of rest. Then he opened his blurry eyes again. “And this is what the face looks like when you’ve slept without removing the war-paint. My pillow probably looks like a modern art painting. I could probably frame it and hang it on the wall for all to enjoy.”

Spock ignored McCoy's sarcasm, which was probably for the best. “This is an odd hour to be sleeping,” he noted instead as he followed McCoy across the room.

“Well, I was tired,” McCoy whined. “I go by how I feel instead of by the clock. If that’s alright with you, Mr. Watch-Springs-For-A-Heart-Guy.”

Spock remembered his graciousness. “But of course it is. You may rest when you think it is advisable for you.”

“Good. Good. Glad we got that cleared up. Now, why the hell did you wake me up?! You surely had a reason.” His eyes unfocused as he looked inward. “You always seem to have a reason,” he muttered. The unspoken "to plague me" echoed throughout the room.

Spock remembered his mission and drew himself up. “My father thought you had been upset by today's recent events and suggested that you might benefit from the counsel and company of a friend.”

“So he sent you?” McCoy snapped, then immediately regretted it when he saw Spock’s face fall. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. But your father was right. I was upset by recent events, so I guess I’m short-tempered now. It’ll take me awhile to get over what I witnessed, but I will, in time, I suppose. Thanks,” he said with a weak smile, drawing himself back to the present. Then he remembered his manners. A guest was standing while he himself was sitting. “Sit. Sit. Anywhere is good.”

Spock looked around and chose a chair near McCoy.

“I appreciate the gesture that you’re making now,” McCoy told him. “It helps.”

“It is the least I could do after you got so upset.”

“Well, it kinda takes the wind out of your sails to learn that people you respected for always seeming to live by great principles actually have feet of clay.” His weak smile was now full of the bitterness he had felt upon making that discovery about Sarek and Spock.

“What sails? What feet of clay?” Spock questioned as he looked around.

McCoy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He did not have the inclination to get sidetracked by an idiom-challenged Vulcan now, so he hurried on to the point he wanted to make. “You and your father tout a line of bullshit that not even Julius Caesar’s men could have conquered, did you know that?! Forget the Rubicon! You two would’ve been a greater challenge to those old Romans than some measly creek was to them! You sure as hell are to me!”

“I suppose you believe that you have made yourself better understood to me, Doctor, when in fact you have not done so.”

“Today! I'm talking about today! When it was okay with you to allow that damned bird to rip the hell out of a defenseless rabbit!” He felt sudden tears stinging his eyes and knew that his earlier angst was back in all of its gut-wrenching agony. He wanted to swipe the tears away, but he would not let the unfeeling Vulcan see his weakness! He wouldn’t!

“Is that justice?! Is that fairness?!” McCoy demanded instead.

“No,” Spock said slowly, stunned by McCoy’s anger again. “It is Life.”

“That’s just what your father said!”

“And he spoke the truth. He and I did not establish those rules. That is the way it has always been.”

“I don't know how you can live with yourself to be able to stand back and watch as an innocent animal is slaughtered for nothing more than your amusement!” There! He'd said it! Let the Vulcan try to deny it now!

But Spock did. He was startled by the accusation and his face showed it. “When did I ever do that?”

“Just now! When we were talking about if it was okay to allow birds of prey to attack defenseless creatures. And you said ‘Yes!’”

“You asked if I agreed with my father's statement about why we were vegetarians.”

“Really? That's all you agreed with?” he asked as he absently wiped at his tears. Somehow, it didn't matter anymore if Spock saw them.

“That is correct. My father and I are not cold-hearted. But we are realists. Even predators have to eat. And predators have a necessary place in the balance of nature. Without them, populations of prey animals would explode. The weak and old would not be weeded out, and the species itself would suffer because its vigor and vitality would be compromised by overpopulation. The environment could not support the large numbers that would result. Individuals would be subjected to slow and painful deaths from starvation. And horrible diseases caused by overpopulation would decimate many others to comparably agonizing deaths. That is hardly a humane approach, either.”

“Well, it makes sense when you explain it that way.” He thought for a moment. “Sorry that I jumped to the conclusion that you and Sarek were hypocrites with your principles. You know, the 'do as I say and not as I do' approach to reasoning.”

“I am encouraged that you thought enough of us to be outraged by our seemingly double standards. I would be disappointed in you if you became cavalier and did not uphold the oath you swore as a physician. It would be so uncharacteristic of you. Because you are one of the most honorable men I know.”

McCoy smiled. “Why, thank you, Mr. Spock. I appreciate your saying that.”

“That is why I am amazed about what upset you about the falcon when you yourself eat meat.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and it had been going so well. McCoy felt his anger rising as he jerked to attention and shot eye bullets at Spock.

“Yeah, I eat meat! Love it, in fact! I hunger for it! Crave it! My daily diet would be incomplete without it! But I don't run prey down and strip chunks of meat off its body with my bare teeth while the poor, frightened thing is still squawking! I don’t care how civilized you think that damn peregrine is-- sitting on your father’s arm and exchanging love nibbles with him the way it does, and all! It’d still turn on him and pluck out the first thing it could reach if your father was trying to run away from it! Know why?! 'Because she is not a scavenger! She will not eat something already dead! She must hunt and tear her prey apart!' And do you know why she is so unique?! It’s because she uses a special tooth on the side of her beak instead of her claws as hawks do when she’s doing that hellish feeding of hers! I think that’s the part that got me the most! That damn tooth that was so special! And it sent chills down my spine to realize that would be the fact that would impress Sarek the greatest when that poor rabbit was gonna lose its life!”

“Father was simply trying to be informative and to educate you--”

“Well, that he got done! The image of that special tooth will stay with me forever! That’s what I learned today! I may be thickheaded, but, boy, can I learn! Because you people are fiendish, thorough teachers!” He crossed his arms, flung himself against the back of the chair, and glared at Spock as if to dare him to contradict anything he had said.

Spock studied him for a moment. “I can see that we greatly shocked you--”

“That's putting it mildly! Damn straight, you shocked me!” McCoy tried to pull his arms more around himself, and he nearly bruised his ribs with his ardent efforts.

“Well, you shocked me today, also, Doctor, but I am not ranting about it the same as you are.”

McCoy released the savage hold he had on himself and straightened. “I shocked you? How?!”

"By the way you were acting."

"Acting. You got the word right there. I am princess of this whole Faire, you know!"

“You were doing more than that. You were flaunting yourself in front of all sorts of men.”

McCoy’s spine got stiffer. “Now, wait a minute--”

“My father. Sir Reginald. Any man you conversed with at the Faire. You wished them all to be dazzled by your presence.”

McCoy had enough coquette in him to gloat as he pretended to examine his fingernails. “Of course I did! That is the prerogative of the role I am playing.”

“A role which you are enjoying very much.”

“Well-l-l--, I certainly cannot deny that.” His smile was the most winsome that any Southern Belle had ever produced, and he knew it. McCoy was in his element. He knew what an impression that he could make, and so he certainly could play toward it. All he needed was an attentive audience, and Spock was presently doing a fine job of providing one for him.

“You cannot deny that, you say?" Spock repeated, as if he was ready to spring a trap which he had carefully set to capture McCoy. Then he did. "Even when it comes to suspicious looking ruffians who drag you into dark corners among rocks and have their way with you?”

What the f--?! McCoy thought as he actually jumped in his chair. Spock must’ve seen Kirk! But he wasn’t supposed to know about Kirk’s presence. Not for awhile at least.

It was important to divert Spock's suspicions away from the stranger he'd seen with McCoy-- even if it meant that McCoy had to throw more unfavorable attention on himself.

So he did.

He certainly hoped that it helped the final outcome of this mission. Because it probably wouldn't help him with Spock one bit at the present moment.

McCoy wondered if anything ever would again.


	10. The Unique Result

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fussing, fighting, and a-feuding. And something else.

“Just what do you think you saw? Just what has your back all bristling and bent out of shape anyway?” McCoy questioned closely. A lot depended on his answer, and it wasn’t all because of Kirk’s identity staying hidden, either. Spock's opinion of him suddenly seemed to be very important to him.

"I do not understand what you are meaning when you ask about my bristly and twisted back."

McCoy screwed his eyes closed and swallowed a big gulp of air. Now was a helluva time for the Vulcan to get bogged down with Earthling idioms. For the love of mercy! McCoy couldn't handle something like that now! If there was any justice in the universe, just let the Vulcan accept what McCoy had said and go on.

And wondrously, Spock did. Perhaps what he had to say was more important to him at the moment than defining terms.

Spock's eyes narrowed. “I know that you do not wish it known that you welcomed the embraces of some disreputable person today. But I saw you. He hugged you. And you--” He seemed to have trouble reporting what he had seen, because his mouth didn't seem to want to work for him at first. But his eyes did, and they were accusing. “You hugged him back.”

McCoy relaxed. It was personal with Spock. He hadn’t recognized Kirk.

“That’s what I do," McCoy answered. "When I like someone, I let him know it.” Oops! He probably shouldn’t have phrased his answer quite that way. It probably didn’t sound quite right to Spock.

And it didn’t. Spock drew himself up again with all his majestic plumage quivering in indignation. “That is obvious,” he snipped, sounding like the most disapproving person who had ever lived.

Spock probably shouldn’t have phrased his comment quite that way, either. For it was like an instant powder peg going off in McCoy’s brain. He jumped to his feet. “What the hell does that mean?!” he roared.

“Just what it sounds like,” Spock answered, rising to his feet, also. Ice had formed around his eyes and in his voice just that quickly. Gone was the sociable, nurturing friend of a moment ago. This was a Spock stripped clean of any warmth or civility. Present was the prototype of his most heathen ancestors, people who could've related to the revenge-riddled inhabitants of the Old Testament.

“At least I can feel!" McCoy accused. "You don’t know what feeling is!”

“I most certainly know what feeling is. I see how it works. It makes fools of men and strips them of pride and dignity. It leaves them unsure and lost and unable to fend for themselves anymore.”

“Yeah, it sure as hell does that, for sure! But do you know what?! I’d rather be that broken guy than having everything still in tact, but never having used it! At least I’ve lived and known love! Sure, I’ve got a mess of scars on my heart! But I got them trying the best I knew how to get out of life what I deserved to have! But, you! You’ve never loved, so you’ve never lived! And when you’re lying at last in some cold and forgotten grave, what will you have to show for having walked in the world? Nothing! Because that’s all you are to life! Nothing! And I feel sorry for you. It's such a waste,” he mumbled as he turned aside.

“I believe you are mistaken about me and the goals I hope to achieve with my personal life--”

“And I believe that you’re fooling yourself,” McCoy said as he turned back with a sad look on his face. “Oh, Spock, you have no romance in your soul! If you did, you wouldn't act the way you do. You've got to dare yourself. Live a little! I’d think differently about it if you’d ever just reach out and grab what’s in front of you. But you never will, because your damn principles are more important to you than living. And that’s too bad. Because in many ways, you’re one helluva guy.”

That assessment from McCoy about him amazed Spock. "I am?" he questioned. He needed to hear more about this. He'd never realized that McCoy held him in such personal esteem.

"Hell, yes! You're are a great person! You're loyal and trustworthy and just plain nice. One of the nicest people I know, in fact. Although you can be stupid as hell and obstinate to a fault when you want to be. But that just means that you're determined. But you have so much inside, so many good qualities that you need to share with someone. And you are so worthy of all the good feelings that could be directed back to you."

"I am?" Spock repeated.

"Hell, yes! And someone would probably tell you all about that, if you'd just let them. But you won't let anybody in, will you? You're content as hell in your ivory tower, just looking out over the people far below and having no sympathy or empathy for them at all. And that's too bad, because you could really be great with just a little sweetening up. But you can't seem to allow it," he decided with a sigh. "You just can't. And that's too bad. Because so much is being missed by you, and by someone else. And just because you won't share yourself."

McCoy might as well have been weaving a magic carpet to send Spock on a wonder-filled exploration of the Land Of Possibilities. For Spock's face was as filled with as much enchantment as any five-year-old child's with the prospect of what could be waiting for him under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.

"Someone else?" Spock echoed as if he'd never thought about the possibility before. "Someone else can be affected by my actions, too?"

"Well, of course, someone could. Somewhere out there there's someone who's missing out on so much of life, too. And just because you won't share yourself. And that's selfish, Spock. It's just plain selfish. No man is an island, Spock, and neither are you."

That was the wrong argument to use for Spock's face darkened. The icy look returned to Spock's features, and the room suddenly developed a new coldness because of it. “You seem to have great knowledge about my motives and actions and shortcomings."

"If you mean that I've got you figured out, well, yeah. I know what I'm working with here," he assured Spock with a great deal of confidence. "You haven't just drifted into town, and neither have I. You aren't the first foolish person to throw away his life, and you certainly won't be the last. I just think it'd be a pity if you didn't do something to correct it now. And you could, if you just would."

Spock's coldness deepened. "You are mistaken about me.”

"And I think I'm not. Face it, Spock. You're an emotional nothing. And the crying shame is that you're so proud of that cold cell you've put yourself in. What a waste! Self-imprisonment. With no chance of parole. Just imagine it. A lifetime without a meaningful relationship. Never to know what true love really is. And that's a crime against nature, if nothing else. Because all things blossom when love finds their hearts." He looked into Spock's dark eyes. "I feel so concerned for you, my friend. You deserve more. But you don't seem to want it. And I'm so very, very sorry that you feel that way," he finished in a harsh, but heartfelt whisper. "So sorry for you and for that other person who is missing out, too. Two lives ruined, and that's so sad."

Even that did not get a response from the wooden Spock, and McCoy decided that he had had enough. He might as well go holler into a raging gale or the exhaust of a jet engine for all the good that this heart-to-heart discussion was accomplishing. "Oh, what's the use?" he asked rhetorically as he felt tiredness sweeping over him again. "Even I have my limits about how long I can make pleas without getting any results. Go away. I need to rest." He made a motion toward the door. "I think you know your way out."

"You are wrong. I can change. I can be romantic and impetuous."

"You? Romantic?" McCoy scoffed. "Impetuous?! Nope. Never. Never happen. You're in a mold you don't want to break out of. You like the feel of it around you too much. It's your comfort zone. No," he decided with a shake of his head. "No, you can't change and never will."

Spock's eyes looked low and dangerous. "You are mistaken to believe that I cannot."

“Oh, I’m tired of this discussion." McCoy waved him away with a fluttering of his fingers while his face looked tired and disgusted "Just... just go away and leave me alone. If your wasted life means nothing to you, why should it mean anything to me? I've given you my two cents' worth, and I'm not even gonna get a penny's change outa the deal. You just cheat everybody, don't you?” It was a rhetorical question and McCoy expected no answer. No good one had come before, why should this one be any different?

McCoy started to turn, but Spock grabbed his arm.

McCoy glared at his captured arm as if it had betrayed him, then he glared harder at Spock as if to get his unspoken objection across. "What?!" he growled. "What do you want to say?!"

"What if I disagree with your assessment?"

"Disagree away," McCoy answered airily. "It won't change matters any."

“What if I can prove you are mistaken?” Spock demanded.

“I’d say I’d need some proof-- In fact, a lot of proof. You've given a lot of evidence in the other direction. And for a long time now. That will take a lot of contradicting. And personally, I don't think you've got it in you to change the record any.” McCoy smirked. "You like your little hidey-hole too well to ever give it up," he dared.

Which is something he shouldn't have done. Daring Spock.

Because with that dare, Spock's dark eyes snapped. Then with an enraged roar, he grabbed McCoy's arm harder and practically snarled.

McCoy blinked because he'd never expected such a primitive reaction. But he quickly covered it with a bored look. Shock value was all it had been, and nothing more. "Big deal. So you can roar like a pissed-off bear that was born mad. You're gonna have to be clearer than that with your proof."

Spock dropped McCoy's arm, slammed his hands down on McCoy's shoulders, and dug his fingers into the tops of both of them. McCoy's eyes popped with the sudden pain. It was like an eagle had landed and had ground its talons into that tender area to claim it for its new roost.

"What the hell?!" McCoy yipped. "What the hell do you thinking you're doing?!"

"Proving that you are mistaken!"

"Stop being an ass! That only proves that you're strong, not romantic! Now, let me loose before you get me pissed off real good!"

And that's as far as his protest got. Because in the next moment, Spock had pulled McCoy into his arms.

McCoy's eyes bugged out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Stop that, you idiot! Let me loose!"

But Spock's only reply was to glare intensely. Then McCoy's problems multiplied substantially, because Spock snarled and slammed his hard lips against McCoy’s.

That didn't prove to McCoy that Spock was particularly romantic, either, or even strong. Just pissed off royally about something. And here McCoy thought that the only problem was that he was gonna be the one getting pissed off. Proves a person can be wrong about a lot of things he hadn't counted on.

But McCoy could barely think about any of that now. And he certainly couldn't voice his opinions about it. Mainly because that Vulcan mouth was on his. And then in his. Damn it! Didn't Spock know that tongue went in the mouth, not lips?! Then he realized that it was tongue! Lord love a duck! Tongue! Vulcan tongue! Raspy tongue! Raspy, raspy tongue! He could die right here and it'd be worth it. Because he'd known the pleasure of Vulcan tongue wallowing his.

He just wished it wasn't coming at him so brutally. McCoy had the feeling, though, that technique was the least of Spock's concerns at the moment.

McCoy grunted and fought, but he was unable to voice any further dissention. A wild man had ahold of him. For all McCoy knew, Spock intended to begin eating him, beginning with his mouth.

But then those punishing lips started to soften and the kiss got kind of interesting. Real interesting. And nice. Really nice. Nicer....

Then McCoy didn't care if he never uttered another word. He just wanted this magic to go on.

So it did.

The room quieted with the sounds of deep, erratic breathing and some whimpering, mostly helpless and from McCoy.

That's the quietest that room had been since Spock had arrived.

And the kiss got even better yet as Spock started moving his head from side to side, electrifying new spots on McCoy's mouth.

Oh, yeah! That was great! More! More!

McCoy saw stars. In the daytime.

He melted.

This couldn't be happening! Not with Spock, of all people! But it was! It was! It really and truly was!

Spock pulled his arms further around McCoy and deepened their kiss.

McCoy didn’t fight him. Hell, why should he when everything felt so great?! Why hadn't they thought of this before?! It was so much better than fighting. And a hell of lot more rewarding!

Just for a moment, McCoy allowed himself to tighten his arms around Spock. Just for a moment, he allowed his lips to soften and yield against Spock's warm mouth. Just for a moment, he allowed his body to mold itself against Spock's so that they both could feel, and then appreciate, what the other one had to offer. Just for a moment, he gave into what Spock was offering. Because he wanted it, too. Heaven help him! He wanted it, too!

Just for a moment, McCoy let himself go with the passion of the moment. And in that moment, the light of the universe shone around them in all of its glory and warmed them to their very souls.

Then McCoy broke the kiss, but not the embrace. He pressed his forehead against Spock's so that he could gaze on those wanton lips that had done so many wonderful things to his body just a moment before. He stared at them with awe while he fought to process what had just happened to the two of them. His fingers almost unconsciously kneaded Spock's shoulders, and he longed to nestle his head into the crook of Spock's neck. That had always looked so tempting to do. And it was so close now. And so tempting. So very... tempting!

"You... You have powerful arguments, sir," McCoy finally managed to gasp out. "And I may have to re-evaluate my original thesis concerning your behavioral patterns." Holy Hannah! He was talking like Spock!

"Uh huh," Spock muttered as he pressed a gentle kiss on McCoy's cheek. "Thought you might."

And Spock was talking like him!

"Now shut up," Spock ordered. "Your words are getting in the way. And I am not here to converse."

"Uh huh." Brilliant! But at the moment, Spock didn't seem to mind. And then McCoy didn't, either.

Then Spock tightened his arms around McCoy, and McCoy became aware of nothing else in the room.

McCoy longed to surrender to those arms and the promise they were holding out to him. He thought about the tube of lube waiting in the nearby drawer for an occasion such as this. But should he produce the lube? Should they?! He had to think straight! He had to think straight. For both of their sakes.

Then he went in for another kiss.

Their hands had a real good time and so did their lips and tongues. But McCoy knew that was as far as they could take it. But it was so good, so good....

Finally, McCoy reluctantly pulled himself halfway out of Spock's arms. "Look, ah...." he started, apparently not being able to decide between looking at Spock's chest or face. His eyes darted about like a heron fishing in a pond abounding in too many tempting fish. Anywhere he landed had great results. "This is great and all, but it's happening too fast. I think that we better give it a rest before something happens that we don't intent happening. So I think it's time for you to go now." He longed for Spock to contradict him. He yearned for Spock to stay. McCoy's resolve was shaky, and all it would take to collapse completely would be for Spock to be insistent and aggressive. Besides, that tube of lube was so close. And it was just waiting to be used....

But Spock surprisingly obeyed and they separated. McCoy collapsed across his bed and slept the sleep of the dead again. Too much was happening too fast. With too many emotions involved.

Maybe the Vulcans had something with their downplay of feelings.

Later, much later, McCoy awoke and thought over his amazing day once more. Yes, he had done all those with Sarek and Falca, but now he had one more thing to add to his list of remarkable feats.

He had kissed a Vulcan. And the Vulcan had kissed him back.

And a whole lot more! His bruised lips and lonely hands could attest to that!


	11. Wrong Turn At Albuquerque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy rears its ugly head as evidence piles up about hanky-panky.

McCoy may have sent Spock away from his willing arms that day, but he could not stop the glow of happiness from shining all over his happy face or the sparkling of his eyes from telling the world of the rapture that he was feeling because of their encounter. Nor could he stop a perpetual smile from spreading all over his whole countenance as he amazed one after another of his fellow crewmen with his good mood wherever he encountered them.

The whole effect of his radical change in behavior was to leave his fellow crewmen stunned and slightly awed. Something momentous had happened to Dr. Leonard McCoy, and it was all for the good because he seemed to be a changed man.

“Just look at McCoy over there,” Sulu hissed to his group of friends that evening as they ate together in the cafeteria. “He acts like he’s walking on clouds. I doubt that his feet have touched the floor since he floated in here. He could eat the most delicious food on the menu tonight and not remember later what a morsel of it tasted like.”

“He does look rather ethereal,” Uhura agreed as she took a moment to glance up from her food. "Nice change. Hope it lasts awhile. It would be a pleasant break for all of us."

Sulu grinned. “I wouldn’t be surprised if McCoy burst into song at any moment now and serenaded us with a selection of golden oldies from Twentieth-Century musicals. What do you say it might be? ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ from South Pacific or ‘If I Loved You?’ from Carousel? How about 'All I Ask Of You' from The Phantom Of The Opera?" His grin deepened with his own evil thought. "Or could it be something else? Something naughty like 'Doin' What Comes Natur'lly' from Anne Get Your Gun?" He calmed down after he'd made his point. "You have to admit that something must've given him something to smile about since we saw him last.”

“Anything would be an improvement over his usual behavior,” Uhura remarked. “Generally McCoy acts like he could bite a person’s head off. Wonder what happened today to sweeten his disposition?”

“He was seen earlier with a mysterious stranger around some rocky nooks," Sulu offered. "That was right after he left the falconry demonstrations in such a snit. Maybe he and that stranger got real cozy in there, and the stranger got rid of McCoy’s frustrations." He grinned and shot a quick glance at Chekov. "I know a little hanky-panky takes the edge right off for me.” He winked at Uhura. "Settles me right down, in fact. I can get real mellow from that kind of treatment."

“Bragging or complaining?” Uhura muttered dryly and caused Sulu to snort with laughter. "Chekov doesn't seem to have too much to say on the subject," she noted.

"He's saving it up," Sulu explained, then he beamed. "For some lucky person."

"Now you are bragging," Uhura snorted. "Mr. Chekov, what do you have to say about all of this?"

"Hmm?" Chekov answered dreamily, as if his mind was miles away from Vulcan and the topic at hand. "What were you saying, please?"

"Dr. McCoy," Sulu prompted. "The way he's acting and looking. Especially his face. He looks like he's just won the lottery or seen the other side of the universe and found it to be more amazing than this side." He leaned toward Chekov. "But back to McCoy's face. Why should it be glowing like that? The answer could be something truly ethereal, but I maintain that it's caused by something more, shall we say..." His own face got a most wanton leer on it. "...earthy?"

“Dr. McCoy's face? You are miztaken, Hikaru. Dr. McCoy is beaming."

They all took a look. Yep. Beaming was the word to describe McCoy's face plastered with hidden joy.

Chekov glowed with his conclusions. "That truly iz the face of happinezz,” he rhapsodized with his own face innocent and slightly envious as he gazed at McCoy.

Sulu grinned slyly and an eyebrow went up slightly. Spock was not the only one who could express emotions that way. “The point is what made him happy. And I think that you're mistaken about what caused it, Pavel. He wasn't just thinking happy thoughts like a true romantic would. That’s the face of a guy who’s just gotten laid. And I mean horizontally AND vertically! Someone took care of him really good!”

“No, Hikaru,” Chekov insisted forthrightly with perfect innocence and his romantic nature. “That iz the face of a man who iz in love.”

“Oh, wow," Uhura muttered in awe. "Out of the mouth of babes--"

Sulu had no more to add. Probably because he agreed with what Uhura, and Chekov, had said.

Scotty and Spock hadn’t contributed anything during the exchange, but each had been thinking about the whole situation. 

Scotty knew the mysterious stranger seen with McCoy had been Jim Kirk and wondered, too, just what had gone on with those two in their secret hideaway. Scotty knew that Kirk tried his best to stay true to him, but the lad was rather lax when temptation came his way. Scotty tried not to be hurt with the jealousy nipping at him, but it was difficult. He loved having Jim Kirk as his. But he wished that Kirk truly was HIS all the time, not just when it was convenient for Kirk!

Spock was also experiencing jealousy and did not know how to handle it. How could he handle something he did not recognize nor been allowed to deal with? But now he was green with more than just skin pigmentation as jealousy roared through him as wildly as his reasoning. And his thinking was just as illogical as any unenlightened Earthling he'd ever belittled to himself for lack of organization and discipline when it came to controlling the emotions.

No wonder McCoy had not wanted to continue with their kissing session! Someone else had been on his mind! And apparently McCoy had done something about it after he’d dismissed Spock, or McCoy wouldn’t have such rapture showing on his face now! 

Mr. Chekov was right! McCoy had fallen in love today and it was with that mysterious stranger Spock had seen him with in those rocks!

Well, Spock had gotten part of his deductions right.

McCoy had fallen in love that day. But it was not with the mysterious stranger.

All might have gone well that evening and allowed the events of the following day to unfold on their own, except one soul could not rest until some things had been set straight. That was why, when shadows were deep in the hallway of the guest hotel where the Enterprise crew was staying, one shadow separated from the others and slithered quietly along the passageway until it found the door it was seeking. Then it performed some sort of magic trick with the lock, jerked open the door that was keeping it away from where it longed to enter, and slipped inside with barely a sound.

But there had been some sound, some whisper, some indication that someone new was in the room. Montgomery Scott wheeled around and his mouth dropped open in surprise at the shadowy figure staring at him. “Saints preserve us! I am about to be accosted and killed by a thief in the night!”

“Accosted? Yes. Killed? Hardly. Unless you plan to die by fright.” The figure shoved back the hood hiding his face so he could be recognized.

“Jim!” Relief and pleasure washed over Scotty, then it was replaced with grimness and disapproval as he realized that Kirk shouldn’t have just strolled into his room as if they were going to do little more than share a bottle of good Scotch together. 

Kirk frowned himself. “Stop looking like I’m the Grim Reaper out to get you. That's the furthest thing from my mind. And it's not the reaction I was wanting out of you. Now come over here and give me a hug.”

Scotty ignored the appealing suggestion as his eyes flashed. Someone had to be the adult in the room, and apparently it wasn't going to be James T. Kirk. So that left Scotty to make them both accountable for their actions right now and in the foreseeable future. “What the hell are ye doin’ here?!" he demanded. "You are supposed to be in disguise and nowhere close to this planet, let alone this hotel!" He looked around wildly. "Let alone this room!”

“And I still am in disguise.” Kirk's eyes got dramatic. “And as for the other, I am a will-o-the-wisp! A creature from the shadows! A sigh in the night!” He winked. "And a phantom of delight. Hopefully."

Scotty made a sound of disgust at such balderdash. Kirk needed to get serious.

So he did.

Kirk’s face cleared. “Besides, I had to chance a meeting with you.”

Scotty recognized truth when he heard it. “Must be important,” he grumbled, turning aside and well aware that he hadn’t given Kirk the requested hug. He wasn’t in the hugging mood at the moment, although his traitor body ached to be doing just that activity with the beautiful creature that was so close and suddenly so available to him. All he had to do was to reach out and take what was being offered. Because Kirk certainly seemed to be in the mood enough for the both of them.

But there were principles at stake here! And Scotty meant to keep them, even if Kirk was letting his guard down. So Scotty’s crossed arms and stern face underlined his determination to stick to business.

“You’re an old bear this evening,” Kirk chided, half mocking, half serious as he crossed to a table and selected an apple to eat from a waiting bowl, then set it back. “Hell, I'm not hungry. At least not for fruit."

Scotty ignored the broad hint and continued to stare levelly at Kirk while his body stayed stiffly unavailable.

"You should appreciate that I'm even here," Kirk whined because he was getting tired of his presence not being valued the way he thought it should be. "I took a rather devious route to get here to you, you know. I didn’t exactly walk in the front door and use the guest elevator to get up here. Oh, no, not me! It was more like climbing vines and swinging from parapets.”

“You did no such thing. And if you did, it was just to prove it to yourself that you could. And not necessarily done to impress me.” 

Kirk shrugged. "Maybe a cross between the two. A little danger in being seen, a little ease in just walking in the backdoor and up the service stairs. But I had to try it. Because I had to see you."

The starch went out of Scotty and a lot of his anger as he unfolded his arms. After all, he wasn't angry with Kirk, just irritated. Kirk had a way of doing that to a person, yet getting under the skin at the same time.

"What's going on?" Kirk complained. "You're not very romantic tonight."

"That seems to be the topic of the hour," Scotty muttered.

Kirk grinned. "What? That you're not very romantic tonight?"

"Not just me. Romance in general, and Dr. McCoy in particular. He's been acting mighty peculiar lately. And for him, that's saying a lot!” Scotty declared with bugging eyes.

"I don't know what's going on with him," Kirk muttered, almost with disgust. "He seems to be lost in his own private universe at the moment. He seems to have taken the orders I gave him about this mission and gotten creative with them." His own eyes bugged dramatically. "Real creative!"

"Aye, that he did!"

"Princess Leona! Fairest of the Faire! The idea!"

"To be fair to Dr. McCoy, it was Sarek who named him that."

"Well, I suppose," Kirk admitted, though he grumbled. "Bones didn't have to go along with it, though."

"Jim! You conceded oaf! You weren't even in the running!" Scotty declared with a burst of laughter. "You weren't even here! You sent McCoy so you wouldn't have to mess with Sarek! Remember?! If you don't, I sure as hell do!"

"Well, I suppose," Kirk admitted, though he grumbled to have to admit the obvious.

Scotty grinned fondly at Kirk, then softened completely. Or maybe he just got curious about why Kirk really had shown up. “What do you mean? You had to see me tonight? Wouldn’t tomorrow do?”

“No, Scotty, it wouldn’t,” Kirk said amiably as he approached his Chief Engineer. “There was something I had to clear up with you,” he said softly in a voice that had gone strangely husky as if his jaunt in the night air to get here had settled in his throat and was just now making itself known.

“What are you meaning, lad?”

“Most things can improve when they’re slept upon,” Kirk continued. “But not this. Waiting will just let the pain worsen. Time is the enemy here.”

Scotty frowned. “What pain?”

“The pain you’re feeling.”

“Mind explaining yourself? Which pain? I’ve got a bunion that’s giving me some trouble lately. And I cut a finger on a sharp knife this morning at breakfast. But I have a feeling you’re not talking about anything physical.”

“I’m not. It’s mental. No, emotional.”

“Make up your mind, lad. I don’t have all night. I need my beauty sleep so I’ll be fresh as a daisy for the jousting matches tomorrow.”

“So do I, but that’s beside the point. Alright, the pain you’re feeling is from the heart. A heartache, if you will. And I’m causing it.”

“I'll be needing more explaining,” Scotty coached, but he was hanging onto Kirk’s every word. Kirk certainly had his attention now.

“I was at dinner tonight. In the cafeteria.”

“But… I didn’t see you,” Scotty protested in confusion.

“You weren’t meant to. I was in disguise.”

Scotty rolled his eyes at the mention of Kirk being in disguise. “You and your games!”

“Maybe. But I learned something, too. I was close enough I could hear the discussion about McCoy’s odd behavior. I also learned that I’ve been hurting you. Why haven’t you said something about my infidelity?”

Scotty flinched, but figured Kirk needed to hear what he had to say. He seemed open to it now. “Because that’s the way you are, Jim. And I accept you on those terms because you always come back to me. Eventually.”

It was Kirk’s turn to flinch. That last word had been a stab to his heart, but he deserved it. “Do you think that I took McCoy into those rocks today and shared a moment or two of bliss with him?”

“Something sure put the stars in his eyes.”

“I could see that. But it wasn’t me who did that. All I did was talk to him and tell him about the plot centering around Sir Reginald and the men who mean to betray him tomorrow. I had to, because Bones was on his way outa here. Off the planet.” He looked troubled. “And outa the Corps, for all I know. He was pretty disgusted about Sarek and that rabbit-eating falcon. When McCoy makes up his mind to take up some causes, he can sure pick some weird ones.”

Scotty grinned. “Aye! That’s our Dr. McCoy alright!”

"I don't know when Sir Reginald's men will strike tomorrow, or what sort of diversion they might use. You'll just have to be alert."

Scotty snapped to attention. "Aren't I always, mate?"

"Yes, you are. And for that, I'm grateful. Even if I don't always say it." Kirk grabbed Scotty’s hand. “But I wanted to tell you that I’m yours, Scotty. Now and forever. Yours. And nobody else’s.”

Scotty gulped.

"And I wish I could offer you my body now to seal that vow, but there just isn’t time. When this is all over with, though--”

Scotty searched Kirk’s eyes. “Whenever. I’ll be waiting. I wish you could stay awhile, too, now….”

“I need to be fresh as a daisy tomorrow, since I’m jousting.”

“That is madness, too, you know.”

“I know. Now, how can I get out of here safely? I don’t want to leave the way I came in.”

“There’s an outside entrance in Dr. McCoy’s room. I saw it awhile ago when he and I were enjoying a nightcap after dinner. I’ll give him a quick call, so he can let you in.”

Jim Kirk was quiet as he moved easily down the hallway to McCoy’s room. He tapped three times on McCoy’s door, waited, then tapped twice more.

The door opened quickly. “Get in here before you're seen!” McCoy hissed as Kirk slipped past him into McCoy’s room.

Kirk had been quiet, and so had McCoy. But not quiet enough. For a few doors down, Spock had watched the whole episode unfold through a crack in his own door.

He had known if he waited long enough, the rough man would come back to claim a whole night with McCoy. And he had.


	12. The Jousting Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite what Sarek had planned for the jousting competition.

“Wonderful day for a joust,” McCoy announced as he sat in the front row of the roofed stands for the dignitaries the next day and gazed around at other dignitaries around him and at the ‘common folk’ standing scattered at various places around the jousting arena. He knew that somewhere out there, Scotty and the other Enterprise crewmen who were aware of the possible trouble ahead, were watching and waiting, also. Meanwhile, he was princess of the Faire for only another day, so he was going to make the most of his 'rule' for as long as he was able.

Sarek turned to him and grinned. This person never ceased to amuse and amaze him. Maybe that was one reason why Kirk liked McCoy's company so much, also. “And how many jousts have you attended, Princess Leona?”

McCoy primped and looked up at Sarek through his eyelashes in a most beguiling way. “The same as you have, Ambassador.” If he’d had a fan, he would’ve fluttered it. But he was a Medieval princess right not, not a Southern Belle. He was, however, wearing the blue gown, freshly laundered, that made him feel so royal and the blue chiffon scarf around his neck as requested by Kirk.

Sarek laughed. “Oh, Leona, I shall miss this Medieval Faire, and you, when this is all over.”

“I will, too. I’ve enjoyed being the fairest of the Faire. Thank you again for that honor.”

“As well you should be named. And you have worn the title proudly.” Sarek’s eyes sparkled with fresh interest that had apparently grown overnight. Maybe he’d heard the rumors of McCoy’s rendezvous with the forest ruffian. That, plus Sir Reginald’s ardor, probably made McCoy attractive again. Nothing makes someone more appealing than having a lot of people pursuing that person romantically.

McCoy sat at Sarek’s right, as was fitting a princess. There were only two things that were marring McCoy’s moment of glory, and they were right beside him. To McCoy's right sat a dismal acting Spock who sat with his arms crossed and as far away as he could from McCoy to avoid touching him. Great! So McCoy couldn’t look that direction. And if he looked at Sarek, there sat that damn falcon on Sarek’s left hand and glared at McCoy.

“I think that bird hates me,” he muttered.

“On the contrary!” Sarek crowed with pride. “I believe she is growing rather fond of you!”

McCoy wanted to know how Sarek could tell that. Just because the bird hadn’t pecked his eyes out yet didn’t mean she might try sometime in the future. In the meanwhile, she looked like she was plotting her next move and that McCoy figured highly in her plans.

McCoy drew his attention back to the arena and decided to let Sarek know that he did not have all of McCoy’s interest. “I thought that Sir Reginald was going to be competing today.” 

“I believe that he will be facing a mystery knight for the final event of the day.”

“Oh?” McCoy drew his eyes back to Sarek. “A mystery knight? How romantic! And you know nothing about him?”

“Just that he is quite skillful and should be a good match against Sir Reginald, despite what that Black Knight believes to the contrary.”

“Black Knight?” McCoy echoed. “Why do you call Sir Reginald that?”

“While most armor is silver colored, his is black.”

“How droll!” McCoy crowed. "He is really quite the romantic, isn't he?"

“I think it is rather an affectation myself, but Sir Reginald is supposed to be quite a jouster despite that performance he treated us to at the falconry exhibits.” He gave McCoy a pointed and appraising look. "You remember. When he acted like he wanted to be slobbering all over you." He didn't say it, but he could've added that he didn't blame Sir Reginald for acting that way. Sarek's wanton eyes clearly spoke of his own perverse intentions along the same lines as Sir Reginald's.

Again, McCoy wished he had a Southern Belle fan. This would be such a wonderful spot to be fluttering one to hide his frustration at Sarek's bawdy words. Clearly, that was no way for a gentleman to be speaking to lady! Unless they were on intimate terms. Which they weren't!

McCoy tried to concentrate on something else less... provocative. He would’ve thought that Sir Reginald wouldn’t be skillful in any sport, not with his physique and pudgy features.

As if reading his mind, Sarek said, “Perhaps that is why he chose jousting. Because he is not light on his feet. It would not prevent him from being good at other things, either.” He leered at McCoy. “A fact I believe he wanted to acquaint you with, I believe.”

Back to that! The man didn't give up easily!

McCoy waved his hand in the air and looked scandalized. “What a perfectly horrid thing to say about Sir Reginald!” He wrinkled his nose in delight. “I love it!” There! Let the old fool deal with that!

Sarek gave him a tight-lipped grin that had no humor in it and settled back to look over the arena again.

Beside McCoy, Spock sighed and shuffled in place.

Good.

“I do believe there is Sir Reginald in his black armor now,” Sarek indicated. “Over by the barns.”

McCoy craned to see. “Where? Oh, I see him now!" Might as well keep this going, McCoy decided. It seemed to needle both father and son on either side of him. "He is rather dashing, isn’t he?!”

"I suppose," Sarek answered with a non-committal face and unexpressed sigh.

Spock’s own sigh deepened as did his shuffling.

Good!

“And who is this approaching us?” Sarek wondered out-loud, trying to change the subject. “I wonder if it is our mystery knight?”

As if he had been overheard, all eyes in the stands swing toward the striking figure on the snorting golden stallion that was approaching them. Even in armor, he was slim and majestic and truly the picture of a hero of Olden Days.

The new knight stopped in front of the royal stands, drew his sword high in the air, then slammed his fist against his chest with the flat edge of the blade pressed against his lowered visor and saluted the honored guests. Sarek and Leona nodded back. Then the horse pranced nearer to the protective railing, and its rider stared openly at McCoy for a long moment.

McCoy nearly blushed with the attention that he was receiving. All eyes at the arena were focusing on him as the stranger gazed upon him with apparently rapt worship. McCoy tried to remember that it was just Kirk playing a role, but still the adoration was heady and difficult to downplay.

Then the knight withdrew a single yellow rose and gallantly handed it to McCoy who leaned forward to accept it. Then McCoy withdrew the blue scarf from around his neck and, amid a collective sigh from the enraptured onlookers, handed it to the mystery knight as a token of her patronage.

McCoy beamed with pride as the knight rode off with the blue scarf trailing colorfully from his elbow. Whispers were heard all around McCoy as onlookers tried to guess the identity of the lucky knight who had been so favored by the princess of the Faire.

McCoy dared to glance at Spock to see his reaction. He was seething!

Good! Better than good! Great!

“You seem to have picked your champion who will fight for you today, Leona,” Sarek remarked.

“Well, you know, my instincts tell me that he will be the greatest jouster here,” McCoy pronounced grandly in a loud voice so Spock would be sure to hear. He was liking this role better and better all the time. “And if anyone could defeat him in combat, he must be quite a knight indeed. Then that knight would win my hand as well as the tournament. He would be the champion of the jousting as well as my heart.”

"That was quite a pronouncement, Princess," Sarek prodded.

"That was quite a knight," McCoy answered.

There was a rustling beside him. But before McCoy could turn to see what Spock was doing, he had his attention diverted by Sarek taking his hand. The space on the other side of him felt empty, though, and McCoy knew that Spock had slipped away. Couldn’t take it, McCoy decided. Spock had to go off somewhere and pout.

Served him right! He had his chance yesterday with McCoy, but had walked away. McCoy was still smarting from that.

“You well may have predicted the winner of the tournament, Princess,” Sarek noted, bringing McCoy back to what was currently going on.

“I try to pick the best,” he answered grandly by indicating that Sarek was the best in whatever he tried.

“But, of course,” Sarek answered by lifting McCoy’s hand to his lips and giving him a very coy look.

The crowd whispered behind them at the dalliance going on before their very eyes, but the falcon glared at McCoy.

'Go ahead and glare,' McCoy challenged the falcon, then gloated in victory. ‘They always pick their own species,’ he silently shot at the bird, then settled back to watch the jousting matches start again.

All was going well until Scotty approached and whispered in McCoy’s ear away from Sarek, “Excuse me for interrupting, Dr. McCoy.”

McCoy looked up at him for daring to deny his royalty so close to the end of the Faire. "You wish to distract Princess Leona during the jousting tournaments? What is your business, my good man?"

Scotty looked a little confused at McCoy's speech, but continued on valiantly, “I am sorry to bother you, Doctor, but your services are needed. A man is injured.”

Princess Leona was gone just like that. “Well, of course,” McCoy snapped as he jumped to his feet and followed Scotty in a most unladylike manner with his skirts held high to accommodate the long strides he was taking.

Scotty led him to the stables inside the barns. Sulu and Chekov knelt beside a man in underwear who was groaning and rubbing his neck.

A glance showed McCoy that it was Sir Reginald, but he didn’t even pause as he knelt beside his crew mates. “What happened here?”

The man squinted up at McCoy. “Princess Leona?”

“Sometimes,” McCoy snapped as he checked Sir Reginald’s pulse. “Right now I’m Leonard McCoy and CMO of the U.S. Enterprise.”

“Figures,” Sir Reginald said with a sigh. “All of the good ones aren’t what they seem.”

“Tell me about it. Now what happened to you?”

“Sarek’s son came tearing in here while I was getting ready.”

“Spock?”

“Yes, and he was acting awfully mad about something. I was trying to figure out what I’d done when he grabbed me by the neck. That’s the last I knew until I woke up and found my armor gone and my horse missing.”

“The Vulcan Nerve Pinch,” McCoy muttered. “I should have known by the way you were rubbing your neck. But why the hell did he do that and steal your armor and horse?”

“I don’t know. But I’m missing my turn to joust. But by the cheering, someone has shown up to compete. I have no idea who, though.”

But McCoy did! And all of a sudden, it was all very clear what Spock was doing. He was going to defeat the mystery knight for the right to McCoy's hand and heart!

“Spock, you dumb ox--” he muttered as he jumped to his feet. Despite everything, he felt warmth flow through him. Spock was risking his life to be his champion!

“Doctor, you don’t suppose--” Scotty started, his eyes wild and staring.

“Oh, but I do. For some reason he’s jealous of Jim.”

“He doesn’t know it’s Jim, lad. Spock is jealous of the disguise Jim has been wearing the last few days. Doctor, Spock heard the crew talking at the dinner table last night. He believes that you and the mystery man have been meeting secretly.”

“What the hell for?!”

“Hanky-panky, sir. You’ve been so secretive.”

“That’s the way Jim wanted it. And now Spock is going to fight a duel with the mystery knight for my hand,” McCoy said with awe.

Scotty grinned. “Well, he's probably thinking of something a little further south of your hands, Doctor.”

“Don’t be gross.” 

The sound of metal being struck by wood rang out in the air, and a cheer went up from the arena.

McCoy paled. “They’re at it! They’re jousting now! They must’ve already made one pass at each other! They were using wooden poles to try to unseat each other! Soon will come metal lances for the death charges! Come on, Scotty! We’ve got to stop them! They’ll kill each other!”

“Well, at least they both survived one pass,” Scotty gasped out beside him as they ran for the melee.

“Beginner’s luck! That’s all that Spock has going for him! Jim’s been practicing! But Spock-- He’s just come down with a bad case of stupid!”

“A bad case of something, that’s for sure.”

McCoy glared at Scotty’s dancing eyes. “Shut up!”

“Just saying, Doctor. It’s quite a gesture on Spock's part.”

“Sure as hell is! Now stop talking and run!” And with that, McCoy lifted his skirts and ran toward the dignitaries’ bleachers which were the closest place to the arena.

There was a narrow walkway between the bottom seats of the bleachers and the protective railing. McCoy didn’t even bother with that, but jumped up on the bottom seat and continued running.

“Move!” he yelled.

Sarek jumped to his feet to comply before he was overtaken by the woman/man hurtling toward him. He also managed to calm the fluttering Falca who had become excited by McCoy’s fleeing figure. What was confusing for the bird and had stopped its pursuit was that the prey was headed TOWARD her, not away.

Now McCoy could see what was going on in the arena. The crowd was cheering the two knights thundering toward each other with their visors down and lances pointed toward each other. In a few electrifying seconds their weapons would find marks on armored chests and sparks would fly and maybe blood.

It was a death charge, at least for one of the competitors.

What would happen if Spock hurt Kirk, or Kirk hurt Spock? What would happen if one of them killed the other? It was something the survivor would never get over. And all because Spock had gotten jealous!

Yes, jealous. That was what it was, plain and simple. Jealousy.

But McCoy didn’t have time to think about that. He had only a few moments to act before tragedy struck.

He made a split-second decision and jumped from the bottom bleacher step to the railing. As he jumped, he yelled, “Jim! Don’t! It’s Spock!” Then momentum catapulted his feet onto the saddle of a horse that stood on the other side of the railing.

Perhaps McCoy should have take an extra moment to have made more prudent plans about his destination. But he knew wherever it was, he was going to be in a hurry to get there. For now, he had no idea where he was headed.

But the horse made that decision for him. Just as McCoy’s weight hit the saddle, it startled the horse and caused it to buck and to send McCoy flying through the air.

At least the two jousters had reined their horses in hard in order to figure out what the shouted warning meant. Then they were treated to the sight of a woman flying through the air off the saddle of a bucking horse. Her arms and legs were wind-milling about frantically and she was screaming one long syllable, “A-a-a-a-a!”

Falca the falcon knew that cry. It was frightened prey. And her eyes saw the wind-milling figure trying to escape. What was a falcon to do but fly after it and bring it to ground.

But as Falca spread her wings to do just that, Sarek made a grab to try to stop her flight. But he got only a handful of feathers for his trouble. She had released them as she instinctively did when a predator tried to grab her. But would it damage her ability to fly?

“Falca… Sweetheart,” Sarek murmured as he studied the feathers in his hands. “I have maimed you.”

But the falcon would not be sidetracked, even with reduced plumage and especially when McCoy’s wig flew off and offered Falca a new target.

Then a group of rough-looking men started yelling and running toward the dignitaries’ stand to overwhelm and humiliate them. They had gotten the distraction they were needing when the woman went flying through the air, so they decided that now was the time to strike. But since the ruffians could not find Sir Reginald, they went to a hasty Plan B which was to shame Sir Reginald in the eyes of other important people.

But they had not counted on Falca. For the leader of the churlish band was wearing a rabbit skin hat that attracted Falca’s attention. And although the cap did not quite resemble a rabbit anymore, Falca still recognized it as her favorite prey and sped toward it.

The band of ruffians skidded to a stop as a falcon suddenly flew into their midst. Then, among their startled cries and yelps of pain-- because Falca wasn’t picky about where she aimed her claws or beak or special tooth for tearing flesh off bones-- the flying woman landed right on top of their huddled mass. They broke her fall. For observers, it looked like McCoy was bowling and had scored a perfect strike as men and bird went flying all sorts of directions.

“We’ll never be able to top that production at future Faires, but at least we got camera footage from all sorts of angles,” Sarek thought to himself as he hurried into the arena to help sort out people and bodies and a screeching falcon that was happily tearing apart a rabbit-skin hat and seeking meat that was no longer attached to the pelt.

But what a Faire this has been, Sarek thought. Surely its success would guarantee that it would be just the first of many more on Vulcan.


	13. The Human Explosion, A Night Of Love, And The Farewell Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well.

Kirk and Spock shoved their visors up and recognized each other.

"Captain? You are here? I do not understand."

"That makes two of us," Kirk muttered. "But I have a feeling I'm further ahead than you are."

Spock frowned. "Sir?"

"Never mind. We'll get it all straightened out later. Come on, let's go see if we can help with this mess. It looks like someone needs to." He frowned. "Someone with some armor on. That falcon looks like she means business."

"She does. She is quite a remarkable bird."

"I can see that."

They dismounted awkwardly and lumbered toward the confused pile of men and excited falcon as fast as they could in their clanking armor. They were burning with all sorts of unanswered questions for each other. But that could wait. Right now, they were more concerned about the fate of McCoy and other victims of the human explosion lying or stumbling around in confusion before them.

Spock shoved writhing and moaning bodies aside and quickly located McCoy. He sat down and pulled McCoy into his arms. “Doctor! Are you alright?! Answer me!”

McCoy looked up and gave him a slaphappy grin. “Oh, hi, Mom! What time will the next roller coaster stop? I got thrown off the last one. And I think I hurt my tutu. And somehow I lost my pretty hair.”

“He has a concussion, Jim,” Spock informed him with concern.

“Maybe some quiet time will help, too. Why don’t you leave that armor here and see that he gets some proper care.”

“I like how you think, Captain. Come on, son,” he said as he hoisted McCoy to his feet. “Let’s go find out about that roller coaster.”

“Will you ride with me, too?” McCoy asked joyfully.

“I will go anywhere with you that you will allow me to go.”

“Even all the way?” McCoy asked seriously. "Because that's how far I want you to go with me. All the way."

Kirk had to stifle a snicker, and Spock gave McCoy a critical look.

“You are a fast healer, Doctor.”

“Yup!” McCoy confirmed with the same slaphappy grin. “And it’s all because of my attending physician! You make me feel all warm and squishy inside! And so very, very, safe! Did you know that, Mr. Spock? How safe I feel with you? And so warm and squishy? Especially, the warm and squishy part? Know why, hmm, hmm? Know why?”

"Come with me, Doctor," Spock answered as his hand on McCoy's arm got more possessive than ever.

"I'd be willing to tell you."

"I realize that. But perhaps it should be for my ears alone." He glanced around at the men who were milling around them. Some were even eyeing Spock and the disheveled maiden with curiosity. "Do you not agree?"

McCoy's eyes sparkled. "I like how you think!"

"I thought you would. Come with me now."

McCoy was just happy enough to slip back into his act of someone with a concussion. "Are we headed for the roller coaster now?"

"For a whole carnival of thrills, if I have anything to do with it," Spock promised him solemnly.

"Oh, goody!"

“Don’t forget the banquet tomorrow night!” Kirk called after them as Spock led McCoy away. "If we don't see you two for awhile!"

McCoy made a waving away motion toward Kirk, but Kirk wasn’t sure if either one of them even wanted to hear what he had to say. After all, they seemed to have some pressing business that needed to be taken care of.

And Kirk was right. Spock and McCoy had some very pressing business, indeed. Business that required only two of them and ten percent lighting.

Or no lighting at all.

Deep in that following night, two couples clung to each other and gloried in the wonder of just being together and being able to express freely just what they were feeling for one another. For each couple, it was not the first time that they had experienced this ultimate glory together. But that did not make it any less special. In fact, the air sparkled around them like fireflies in summer and crackled with the electricity of the universe. It was as if the very stars in the night sky above them had descended to surround them in splendor. For this was but the latest joining of their bodies in the most intimate physical activity that two people can share.

For Kirk and Scotty, it was a rediscovery of what they had once known after drifting apart gradually over the last few months. That cooling had been caused mainly by Kirk’s wandering eye, huge and insatiable libido, and lax loyalties. But dear that he was, Scotty had been patiently waiting for Kirk’s return. What else could Scotty do? He loved the lad so much that he was willing to put up with just about anything to get Kirk in his arms again. 

Of course, to be fair, Kirk always made it worth Scotty’s patience and forgiveness to wait for Kirk’s attentions again. Nor did Kirk stint any when it came to showing his appreciation for Scotty’s faithfulness. It was just a matter of getting Kirk focused long enough to participate. But when that happened, boy! Was it ever worth the wait for Scotty!

Scotty had never seen anyone who responded to his loving more than Kirk did. Then the mighty and renowned captain of the greatest Starship in the Fleet became just a creature of the emotions wracking his golden body. But the greatest wonder of it was that then Kirk reacted the same way and could give back as wonderfully as he got. Nothing was taboo for Kirk’s searching hands and lips and tongue. Scotty had no idea what part of himself would be treated next to pleasure by Kirk, and Kirk never disappointed him when they were involved with bedroom activities.

It was at times like those that Scotty realized he could feel better about himself by taking the upper hand in their relationship. Instinctively he also knew that Kirk needed to be mastered in the bedroom so he could be commander in all other areas. It all rested in Scotty’s inability to demand Kirk’s undivided attention, something he should have had simply because they were lovers. 

Well Scotty asserted himself over and over again that night-- as he did any night that he had the opportunity to make love to Kirk-- simply because he knew that Kirk needed to be conquered. And Kirk gloried in it as he always did when Scotty was masterful with him. For the sad truth was that Kirk needed to surrender to Scotty for the act to do him any good. So Scotty did what was required of him.

But poor Scotty! All he wanted to do was to love Kirk and to have Kirk love him back. That was Scotty’s cross to bear, and he would bear it because he would rather have Kirk that way than not at all.

No, Kirk would always find a welcome for himself in Scotty’s bed-- for just as long as Scotty was lucky enough to lure Kirk into it. For a damned sight longer than that, too, Scotty had to admit with a sigh. It was such a mixed blessing. For loving Kirk was Scotty’s delight-- and sorrow. And he would continue to do that for as long as he was drawing breath.

And then some.

As for McCoy and Spock, that night was a discovery of all that physical love could offer. And they were thirsty for knowledge and to learn all that they could at the feet of the goddess of love who held them so firmly in her grip that they were worshiping gladly at her feet. 

It hadn’t been that way at first. They had been too embroiled in lust to think straight, let alone obey any kind of rules about how a first session should proceed with any sort of logic at all.

Almost immediately when Spock and McCoy had left the jousting field had they fallen into the first available bed. Luckily, it was remote and private and somewhere where nobody could discover their various efforts of getting acquainted and getting undressed and getting something accomplished that halfway resembled a successful sex act between two lovers. McCoy felt like laughing about the whole messy affair, but feared that Spock would not understand and would demand an explanation. 

And at that point, McCoy just wasn’t in a talking mood.

He would have done just about anything to keep Spock on physicality and not on debate. There was a time and place for talking, but this sure as hell wasn’t it, McCoy decided as he tried to keep Spock interested on an activity a lot more primitive than conversation. 

And that was kind of difficult to do since McCoy was still encumbered with the torn remnants of his Princess Leona trappings. He had to be an awfully awkward sight with streaked makeup and wads of material hanging onto him that had once been the loveliest blue dress in the kingdom.

“I must be a horrible sight,” McCoy murmured as he clung to Spock who was hovering over him.

“Not where I am looking,” Spock reassured him.

“Oh. Okay,” McCoy murmured back, then scrunched his eyes tightly shut as Spock slid into him again, hot and fast and lubed to the hilt.

Damn good stuff, that lube. The angels must be singing its praises as they watched down in envy.

Because McCoy sure was.

The next night found the Enterprise crewmen enjoying their farewell banquet. They sat on benches at roughhewn tables laden with joints of meat and crusty loaves of wheat-smelling bread. Fruits and vegetables, raw and cooked, were heaped on earthenware platters all along the groaning sideboard. And there were tankards of mead to wash all down.

The party goers were resplendent in clothing that Medieval aristocrats would have worn on such a feasting occasion. Gone were the rough fabrics of the peasantry. Now the hall was aglitter with gleaming jewels and bright, colorful silks. All except McCoy, who wore again the blue dress that had brought him so many good things on this vacation. It had been freshly laundered and repaired, for his flying adventure had caused some damage to it when he had landed in the pile of outlaws. As in so many things in life, it is not the travelling that causes the problems but the sudden stops.

“Well, Princess Leona, are you satisfied with your visit here?” Sarek asked with a tight smile because he saw how possessively his son hung onto McCoy’s arm and knew that he would not be able to divert McCoy's attention from Spock for very long no matter how hard he might try. Ah, well, he had wanted this for his son! He had no one to blame but himself for the amount of success he had realized.

“I most certainly am, Ambassador. You might say that my dreams have all come true here.” He smiled as he felt Spock's hand tighten momentarily on his arm. McCoy's pulse quickened about what signaled: Another part of Spock was also tightening. It would not be long now before Spock would tire of all of these garish activities and rich foods at the banquet and would require McCoy to accompany him as they sought out the first available semi-dark and quiet spot for a bit of dalliance that only two can share properly.

McCoy made a mental note that he would need more lubricant before many more nights transpired in Spock’s bed. His Vulcan-- Yes, HIS Vulcan!-- certainly was a lusty lover! Not that McCoy was complaining any. He just wanted that important piece of information to be out there in case anybody wondered. (Golly, how he hoped someone was wondering! And envious! Because, well, hell, the truth of the matter was that someone should be!)

Sarek continued with his platitudes of praise. “And well you might, Princess. After all, you are not only the fairest of the Faire, you also won the jousting tournament as the most original program presented.” Sarek chuckled softly, which was rather a feat in itself as Sarek was not the chuckling type. "I doubt if anyone could ever present a program that could come anywhere close to competing with what you did. It was quite original and well deserving of any award which you could have won."

“It’s not the best thing I won,” McCoy said with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he gazed fondly at Spock. Then he seemed to remember and turned back to Sarek. “And I didn’t win the whole award myself. You’re forgetting I had a partner. I couldn’t have done it without Falca, sweet bird that she is. I am certain that she saved my life, as well as Jim's and Spock. And I am positive that she saved my fall by lining up all those men in one spot for me.”

Sarek grinned at McCoy’s changed attitude about his falcon. “She is a most talented bird."

"That she is," McCoy agreed heartily.

Sarek doubted that his falcon deserved McCoy's lavish praise, but what was the harm of McCoy's thinking the best of her? "Where is Falca anyway? I thought she would be here with us this evening. She would be highly entertained by all of this pageantry. She must be doing something very special to divert her from all of this.”

“She is. She’s off laying an egg somewhere," McCoy said proudly. "I guess that Spock and I inspired her. She's gotten positively broody. I think that maybe I helped her to think about something besides being a cold-blooded killer. She is, after all, a female. And a nest builder.”

"I know, but being a cold-blooded killer is the way she eats," Sarek reminded him.

"Yeah, but she's got a mothering instinct, too. I like to think that she adopted me in those few seconds when I was airborne and that she saved my life when I was really in trouble."

"She perhaps may well have," Sarek agreed smoothly, although he secretly doubted it. Let McCoy think what he may. As long as McCoy was happy-- and made Spock happy-- that was all that really mattered to Sarek. It was fun flirting with McCoy as they gave each other false hopes about intimacy, but that was as far as it would go. For now. But if McCoy and Spock ever broke up-- Well, McCoy would need someone to consul him, wouldn't he? Who better than the man who had first given life to Spock?

Besides, Sarek could be so-o-o understanding when he wanted to be. An eyebrow arched up slightly on Sarek's forehead. Correction. Sarek could be so understanding when he NEEDED to be and when it was in his best interests. There was a chilly barrier hidden deep inside Vulcans that Earthlings could never melt, no matter how much they might try. But Vulcans would most certainly let them try, Sarek thought as he allowed his prideful eyebrow to inch a short distance higher on his forehead.

"So, are you pleased with the way in which you performed your assignment, Doctor?" Sarek asked and therefore addressed McCoy's usual persona of Starfleet officer.

"Quite, Ambassador," McCoy replied in his official capacity. "I believe that my commanding officer also believes that I have reached his expectations, and more."

“Good, good. I am missing Captain Kirk at our celebration, and Mr. Scott, also." Kirk's whereabouts was the real reason why Sarek had asked about McCoy's job performance. He didn't give two hoots in Hades about that matter, but he was curious about Kirk. That was such a slippery little conquest, yet one Sarek longed to bed sometime. "Do you know where they are this evening?”

“I do,” McCoy said in a conspiratorial manner, then wrinkled his nose as he returned to his Princess Leona persona. “But I’m not supposed to tell.”

“Ah, well,” Sarek said with a sigh. “I seem to have lost all of my prospects.”

“Cheer up. Your new park is a hit with us, and more people will be showing up to use it after we spread the word about what a great time we had here. Hard telling what sort of adventuresome souls that will attract. You'll have all sorts of entertainment to distract you.”

“Ah, yes!” Sarek agreed, perking up. “There is that!”

“And your wife is due back any day now.”

“Ah, yes,” Sarek agreed with a grim sigh. “There is that!”

"So much waiting for all of us," McCoy lisped as his eyes latched onto Spock's dark ones that had just been watching for McCoy to notice him again. As if McCoy's attention had ever been very far from being aware of Spock! Especially not after the night they had put in together last night!

"Yes, some of us have done very well," Sarek said magnanimously. "Very well, indeed." But he doubted that McCoy even heard him, as engrossed with Spock the way he was. And Sarek assumed correctly.

Then McCoy smiled as Spock’s eyes began to glow at him. It would be an early night for them, but not for sleep.

McCoy padded the pocket in his dress just to make certain. Yep. All the essentials were there. Room key. Breath mints. Lube.

Spock held out his hand, and McCoy took it. And somewhere a falcon screamed in triumph as she laid her first egg. Soon she would be clucking with the best of them.

But that might well have simply been the night wind waking up on the other side of the mountain to walk across this ancient land, this land where anything was possible and often came to pass as predicted in the annals of old.

Perhaps this tale seems fanciful and improbable. That is for others to decide. Our purpose was merely to record it here so that all might learn of its marvels when women flew through the air almost unaided and a bird of prey became a nurturer.

But minstrels eventually came to sing of these enchanted times in the banquet halls of the rich and powerful, so it must be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of this tale. And of this year! Hopefully, 2021 will be a better one for all of us. Happy New Year to all, near and far. May it be full of blessings for you.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its storylines.


End file.
